B    3 


LIBRARY 

OF  THR 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

GIFT    OF 


Class 


CALIFORNIA  SONGS 


By 

R.  A.  S.  WADE 

Author  of 
"The  Parchment"   and  other  Poems 


BROADWAY   PUBLISHING  CO. 

NEW      YORK     AND      BALTIMORE 
835  Broadway  1722  N.  Calvert 


COPYRIGHT,  1910. 

BY 
R.  A.  S.  WADE. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

This  Book  is  dedicated 5 

La   Canada 6 

Yearning   8 

The  Rose   , 9 

La  Monte   10 

Los  Angeles  1 1 

The  Magic   Mint 12 

Harro    14 

Nobody  Knows   15 

The  Long- Ago  Land 17 

The  Grey  Boys 18 

Blackwater   Chapel    19 

Johnson  Wheeler   21 

Rosalind    23 

The  Substitute   23 

Debris 25 

The   Tramps    25 

Annie    26 

The  Shambler  27 

Gwendolyn    29 

A  Wish   30 

Maggie   31 

The  Circle  Letter 35 

The  Queen    38 

Darkness  and  Light 42 

Dying   44 

Powder  and  Ball   48 

The  Sunday  Worker  51 

Santa  Ana  Commandery,   K.  T 52 

The   Dreamer    53 

The   Columns    54 

The  Old  Dinner  Horn 56 

John   of  Tyrone 59 

The  Test  ." 61 

Gone    63 

A  Hero 63 

Greeting    65 

Fifty  Years 65 

Farewell    67 

A  Prayer  68 

Oh !  Would !    68 

A  Vision  68 

The  Hen , 69 


202059 


Songs 


THIS  BOOKLET  IS    DEDICATED 

To  the  Friends  who  dream 

By  the  mountain  stream 
Where  the  laurel  trees  are  growing; 

To  the  Friends  who  meet 

In  the  village  street 
Where  the  prairie  wind  is  blowing. 

To  the  Friends  who  gaze 

Where  the  heavens  blaze 
And  the  lightning's  gleam  is  flashing; 

To  the  Friends  who  stroll 

Where  the  breakers  roll 
And  the  ocean  waves  are  dashing. 

To  the  Friends  who  toil 

In  the  ceaseless  moil 
In  the  mart  of  the  busy  city ; 

To  the  Friends  who  pray 

For  the  souls  that  stray 
Where  there's  neither  love  nor  pity. 

To  the  Friends  who  work 

In  the  sacred  Kirk 
With  an  ardor  unabating; 

To  the  Friends  who  lie 

Out  beneath  the  sky 
WThere  the  silent  dead  are  waiting. 
5 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

To  the  man  whose  life 
Is  an  endless  strife, 
Where  the  air  is  oft  mephitic, 
In  a  fruitless  fight 
With  the  men  who  write, 
To  our  dauntless  friend,  the  critic; 

— R.  A.  S.  WADE. 
2229  Morcum  Ave.,  Los  Angeles,  Cal.,  Aug.  24,  1909. 


LA  CANADA. 

Have  you  been  to  the  vale 
Sweeping  up   ~rom  Glendale 
When  the  wind  blew  a  gale 
In  wild  La  Canada  ? 

Have  you  wandered  at  will 
When  the  night  wind  was  still 
And  your  heart  was  athrill 
In  the  vale,  La  Canada  ? 

Have  you  sat  half  asleep 
Where  the  shadows  were  deep 
When  the  summer  nights  sweep 
O'er  dark  La  Canada  ? 

Oh !  the  fairest  that  grows 
Is  the  soft-tinted  rose, 
When  the  summer  wind  blows 
In  bright  La  Canada. 

There  the  flowers  never  die ; 
There  the  mountains  are  high, 
And  their  peaks  touch  the  sky 
Around  La  Canada. 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

There  the  piteous  wail 
Of  the  unmated  quail 
Strikes  the  heart  like  a  flail 
In  fair  La  Canada. 

There  the  mocking  bird  trills 
All  the  music  that  thrills 
The  glad  heart  in  the  hills 
'Round  dear  La  Canada. 

And  the  turtle  doves  greet 
Their  fair  mates  when  they  meet 
With  their  cooings  so  sweet 
In  sweet  La  Canada. 

And  the  lights  of  Mount  Lowe 
In  the  summer  nights'  Olow 
Where  the  wildflowers  blow 
By  fair  La  Canada. 

There  the  splendor  enthralls, 
And  the  light  grandly  falls 
On  the  Gould  castle  walls, 
By  fair  La  Canada. 

Oh !  the  mist-shrouded  hills 
And  the  grandeur  that  fills 
Every  heart  till  it  thrills 
In  fair  La  Canada. 

Not  a  sad  bell  may  toll ; 
Not  a  shadow  may  roll 
O'er  the  undisturbed  soul, 
In  calm  La  Canada. 

There  no  tear  dims  the  eye 

And  no  heart  heaves  a  sigh 

Where  the  summer  birds  fly 

In  fair  La  Canada. 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  no  mortal  may  weep 
Where  the  silent  years  sleep, 
As  the  centuries  sweep 
O'er  fair  La  Canada. 

There  the  soul  is  at  rest, 
And  the  spirit  is  blest 
In  the  vale  we  love  best, 
In  dear  La  Canada. 

And  the  day  and  night  seem 
To  glide  by  like  a  dream 
Where  the  softest  moonbeam 
Falls  on  La  Canada. 

There  is  nought  that  will  cloy, 
There's  no  trace  of  alloy 
In  that  valley  of  joy, 

The  sweet  La  Canada. 

'Tis  an  unhappy  day 

When  the  sad  heart  must  say, 

As  it  wanders  away : 

"Farewell!    La  Canada!" 


YEARNING. 

I  looked  through  my  window  away  at  the  scene 
Where   mountains   were   clothed   in   their   vestments  of 
green, 

While  tints  that  were  rarest 

And  hues  that  were  fairest 
Lent  charm  to  the  hills  and  the  valleys  between ; 

I  gazed  at  the  vision, 

The  beauty  Elysian, 
And  wished  I  might  roam  in  that  region  serene. 

8 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

I  hopefully  toiled  o'er  the  hill  and  the  dale ; 
I  dared  the  enchanting  Sierras  to  scale ; 

But  foot-sore  and  weary 

And  heart-sore  and  dreary 
I  sought  for  the  beauty  but  nought  would  avail ; 

The  charm  so  alluring 

Had  proved  unenduring ; 
The  beauty  had  fled  and  I  sought  but  to  fail. 

But  farther  away  in  the  distance  I  see 

Where  mountains  and  valleys  and  hills  seem  to  be 

In  splendor  enshrouded 

In  regions  unclouded ; 
Yet  sometimes  they  seem  to  be  closer  to  me, 

And  show  to  my  vision 

Those  regions  Elysian 
And  splendid  enchantments  that  never  will  flee. 

And  oft  as  I  gaze  at  the  beautiful  scene 
Beyond  the  dim  valley  that  stretches  between 

My  heart  yearns  to  wander 

In  peace  over  yonder 
Among  the  fair  hills  in  the  meadows  of  green, 

Where  tints  ever  blending 

Lend  beauty  unending, 
That  thrills  the  rapt  heart  in  that  region  serene. 


THE  ROSE. 

O,  how  oft  do  I  go 

In  the  morning's  first  glow, 
And  more  oft  when  the  weary  day  closes, 

To  my  favorite  nook 

By  the  murmuring  brook, 
Where  so  sweet  is  the  scent  of  the  roses. 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

In  the  shade  of  the  trees 

The  industrious  bees 
To  the  nectar-filled  flowers  are  clinging; 

And  the  grasshopper's  song 

All  the  summer  day  long 
From  the  neighboring  meadow  comes  ringing. 

When  the  evening  is  still 

The  low-whispering  rill 
Its  sweet  message  to  mortals  is  sending, 

As  it  tells  of  the  peace 

We  shall  know  without  cease 
In  the  gardens  of  bliss  never-ending. 

And  there  comes  the  soft  beat 

Of  invisible  feet 
As  the  angels  are  gently  descending; 

While  more  sweet  grows  the  rose, 

And  its  richer  tint  shows 
That  the  heavenly  guests  are  attending. 

And  my  heart-throbs  most  hush 

As  I  breathe  the  sweet  gush 
Flung  abroad  by  a  heavenly  pinion ; 

And  the  scent  of  the  rose 

Tells  to  men  that  it  grows 
On  the  margin  of  heaven's  dominion. 


LA  MONTE. 

La  Monte,  thy  soft  breezes 

Bring  perfume  that  pleases 
Where  bees  gather  nectar 
From  bloom  as  they  fly ; 

Thy  church  bells  are  ringing ; 

Thy  Christians  are  flinging 
Their  songs  through  the  grovelets, 
The  gardens  and  sky. 

10 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Thy  hearts,  pure  and  tender, 

True  reverence  render 
To  Him  who  directs  them 
In  all  of  their  ways ; 

And,  e'er  interceding 

And  earnestly  pleading, 
Seek  grace  to  assist  them 
In  perfecting  praise. 

And  God  ever  guides  them, 
Whatever  betides  them, 
And  hears  every  prayer, 
Every  song  that  is  sung; 
And  safe  in  His  keeping, 
Through  travail  and  weeping, 
They  gather  their  dear  ones 
While  yet  they  are  young. 

O,  Saviour,  be  near  them ; 

And  evermore  hear  them ; 
And  guide  them  and  keep  them 
In  all  of  their  ways ! 

May  their  interceding 

Bring  others  to  leading 
Their  children  to  Thee 
In  the  morn  of  their  days ! 


LOS  ANGELES. 

As  fair  as  the  morning 
She  stands  here  adorning 
This  heaven-kissed  shore, 
Summer  land  of  perfume ; 
Her  bosom  is  swelling, 
Her  lips  ever  telling 
Her  lovers  to  haste  to 
Her  beauty  and  bloom. 

II 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Though  proud  and  commanding 

She  sweetly  is  standing 
Her  hands  ever  white 
And  her  heart  ever  pure ; 

Her  power  extending, 

Her  youth  never  ending, 
Her  beauty  immortal 
As  years  shall  endure. 


THE  MAGIC  MINT. 

A  poet  constructed  a  magical  mint 

That  turned  out  its  coin  without  limit  or  stint 

From  ore  of  his  mining, 

All  sparkling  and  shining, 
Enchanting  the  eye  with  its  magical  glint. 

Its  coinage  was  neither  of  silver  nor  gold, 

Though  anxiously  sought  by  the  young  and  the  old; 

It  ran  without  ceasing, 

Its  coinage  increasing, 
Yet  never  the  sum  of  its  output  was  told. 

The  coin  was  accepted  all  over  the  earth ; 
Wherever  the  children  of  men  knew  its  worth, 

Where  hearts  had  grown  weary 

And  life  become  dreary, 
It  went  and  took  gladness  and  music  and  mirth. 

To  rich  and  to  poor,  to  the  grave  and  the  gay 
This  magical  money  was  given  away; 

The  poor  and  the  needy, 

The  sordid  and  greedy, 
Drew  cash  on  their  checks  all  the  hours  of  the  day. 

It  came  to  the  home  when  the  yuletide  was  near, 
And  ingleside  glow  filled  the  bosom  with  cheer, 

12 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

And  young  hearts  were  beating, 
And  parents  repeating 
The  rhymes,  runes  and  rondeaus  the  young  like  to  hear. 

This  coin  was  not  stored  up  in  cities  and  banks, 
And  loaned  to  the  poor  without  pity  or  thanks ; 

It  spread  through  the  nations 

In  lavish  donations, 
Exalting,  enlightening  men  of  all  ranks. 

Nor  carried  in  trains  over  mountain  and  lea, 

Nor  borne  in  great  ships  through  the  depths  of  the  sea 

To  add  to  men's  pleasures, 

Or  build  up  their  treasures, 
Where  commerce  recorded  its  binding  decree. 

But,  treasured  and  held  in  the  heart  of  a  child 

That  played  in  the  woods  where  the  flowers  grew  wild, 

Or  strayed  fondly  dreaming, 

This  coin  threw  its  gleaming 
In  visions  that  ravished  and  charmed  and  beguiled. 

It  burgeoned  and  grew  in  the  hearts  of  the  young, 
And  over  their  lives  its  enchantments  were  flung 

By  forest  and  fountain, 

And  meadow  and  mountain, 
In  tales  that  were  told  and  the  songs  that  were  sung. 

The  coiner's  soft  tread  in  the  gloaming  was  heard, 
When  sweetly  the  heart  of  a  maiden  was  stirred, 

As  memories  came  stealing, 

Her  child-songs  revealing 
In  sigh  of  a  zephyr  or  song  of  a  bird. 

Or,  kept  by  a  mother  when  burdened  with  care, 
Or  sunk  in  the  depths  of  the  deepest  despair, 

With  heart  that  was  bleeding, 

And  lips  that  were  pleading, 
Its  sheen  threw  a  buoyance  and  radiance  there. 

13 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 
HARRO. 

When  the  boat  had  returned  from  the  wreck 
And  had  brought  all  the  men  from  the  deck, 

Harro,  bold,  brave  and  true, 

As  the  wind  wildly  blew, 
Asked  his  men  if  they  saved  all  the  crew. 

They  replied  that  so  fierce  was  the  blast 
A  poor  man,  lashed  high  up  on  the  mast, 

Had  been  left  there  to  die ; 

Though  his  prayer  rent  the  sky 
They  had  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  cry. 

"I  will  bring  him  away.     Who  will  go  ?" 
Harro  said,  while  the  sleet  and  the  snow, 

As  it  swept  through  the  air, 

Filled  his  beard  and  his  hair ; 
And  the  brave  men  were  filled  with  despair. 

"I  will  go  !    I  will  save  him  alone !" 
Harro  said ;  and  his  confident  tone 

Filled  the  sailors  with  cheer, 

As  a  dozen  drew  near ; 
And  they  sprang  in  the  boat  without  fear. 

"To  the  wreck  !"  Harro  said  :    "Pull  away !" 
At  that  moment  in  wildest  dismay, 

In  the  tempest's  wild  roar, 

As  the  hand  held  the  oar, 
Harro's  mother  appeared  on  the  shore. 

"For  the  love  of  me,  Harro,  don't  go !" 
Cried  the  mother.    "Dear  Harro,  you  know 

Your  dear  father  and  Fred 

Both  are  lost ;  perhaps  dead  ! 
O,  come  back,  my  dear  Harro !"  she  plead. 

14 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

He  replied :    "But  the  man  on  the  mast 
Is  exposed  to  this  pitiless  blast ! 

Is  there  no  one  to  sigh, 

No  dear  mother  to  cry 
And  to  wait  for  her  son  should  he  die  ?" 

She  replied  not  a  word ;  and  the  boat 
Sped  away  where  the  ship  was  afloat ; 

But  the  sea  was  so  high, 

And  so  wild  was  the  sky, 
That  in  vain  was  the  lone  sailor's  cry. 

When  they  thought  that  to  try  was  to  fail, 
To  be  driven  to  death  in  the  gale ; 

When  their  last  hope  was  fled, 

And  the  man  all  but  dead, 
Then  the  Teuton  spoke  bravely  and  said : 

"When  I  hear  that  man's  piteous  cry, 
It  remains  but  to  do  and  to  die !" 

And  the  sailors,  aghast, 

Said  :    "Good  bye"  as  he  passed 
To  his  death  or  the  man  on  the  mast. 

But  he  brought  the  man  down  from  the  mast ; 
And  the  boat  flew  away  through  the  blast ; 

To  his  mother  he  sped 
And  triumphantly  said : 
"O,  dear  mother  !    Dear  mother  !    It's  Fred !" 


NOBODY  KNOWS. 

She  comes  to  wash  and  away  she  goes; 
And  where  she  goes  to  nobody  knows ; 
She  has  her  griefs,  her  trials  and  woes, 
But  what  her  afflictions  are,  nobody  knows. 

15 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Her  face  is  faded  as  a  last  year's  rose ; 
Was  it  one  time  beautiful?     Nobody  knows; 
Her  hand  is  small  as  she  wrings  the  hose; 
In  youth  who  pressed  it?     Nobody  knows. 

When  red  her  lips,  as  the  blushing  rose, 
Who  stooped  to  kiss  them?    Nobody  knows; 
When  fresh  her  heart  as  the  breeze  that  blows, 
Who  cruelly  crushed  it?  Nobody  knows. 

Did  they  bury  her  lover  beneath  the  snows 
In  years   long  vanished?     Nobody  knows; 
Does  her  heart  go  back  where  the  willow  grows 
In  a  far-off  churchyard  ?     Nobody  knows. 

What  broken  vows  could  the  past  disclose 
That  blasted  her   happiness?     Nobody  knows. 
What  slight  or  scorning  chilled  and  froze 
Her  life's  warm  current?     Nobody  knows. 

She  rubs  and  wrings,  as  her  thin  face  glows; 
Is  her  heart  wrung  sorely?     Nobody  knows. 
And  over  her  cheek  a  lone  tear  flows; 

What  memory  caused  it?     Nobody  knows. 

i 

Her  head  is  white  as  the  winter  snows ; 
What  storms  have  tossed  it?     Nobody  knows; 
And  when  the  wind  of  adversity  blows 
Is  she  kindly  shielded?     Nobody  knows. 

Is  her  life  all  toil  and  care  and  woes, 
And  bitter  heart-burnings?     Nobody  knows. 
If  the  end  should  come  ere  the  day  shall  close, 
Is  there  any  to  mourn  her?     Nobody  knows. 


16 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 


THE  LONG-AGO  LAND. 

Far  over  the  prairie  I  wandered  one  day, 
Where  the  cattle  were  lazily  straying; 

And  many  a  moment  I  loitered  away, 

Where  the  murmuring  breezes  were  playing. 

I  wandered  where  oft  I  had  gone  in  the  days 
When  the  flowers  long  faded  were  growing, 

When  life  was  made  bright  by  the  morning  sun's  rays, 
And  the  skies  of  my  boyhood  were  glowing. 

The  flowers  I  rudely  crushed  under  my  feet 
Seemed  to  look  at  me  earnestly  pleading, 

As  if  their  fair  petals  were  lips  to  repeat 
The  sad  story  of  hearts  that  were  bleeding. 

I  gathered  them  there  as  my  heart  warmly  beat; 

And  though  sadly  disfigured  and  broken, 
They  told  me  a  story  so  plaintive  and  sweet, 

Though  the  language  they  used  was  unspoken. 

The   story   they  told  me  you'd  not  understand ; 

'Twas  of  years  I  most  tenderly  cherished ; 
Of  friends  I  loved  well  in  the  long-ago  land, 

And  the  roses  that  bloomed  and  then  perished. 

I  dreamed  of  old  years  as  the  fleet  moments  sped 
Till  the  flowers  were  withered  and  drooping; 

Of  hopes,  like  the  flowers,  all  withered  and  dead, 
Till  their  ghosts  like  dim  shadows  came  trooping. 

I  sat  and  dreamed  on  till  the  moon  lit  the  sky 
And  the  stars  in  the  heavens  were  shining, 

And  till  the  sad  notes  of  the  whippoorwill's  cry 
Joined  the  spirit's  more  plaintive  repining. 

17 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 


THE  GREY  BOYS. 

I  send  you  a  greeting  to-day,  boys, 

And  a  shake,  wherever  you  are; 
I  hope  you  are  jolly  and  gay,  boys, 

And  under  a  lucky  star. 

And  here's  to  the  dear  old  days,  boys, 

The  days  of  the  long  ago, 
The  seasons  of  sled  and  sleighs,  boys, 

And  speeding  through  tossing  snow. 

And  here's  to  you  when  you  are  grey,  boys, 

And  your  steps  are  getting  slow ; 
When  you've  fought  through  the  thick  of  the  fray,  boys, 

And  your  heads  are  bending  low. 

But  many  we  loved  in  the  years,  boys, 

For  whom  we  tenderly  yearn, 
Who   joined   in   our   joys   and   tears,   boys, 

Are  gone  and  can  never  return. 

And  oft  in  the  silence  I  sigh,  boys, 

For  those  that  have  gone  before ; 
And  oft  there's  a  tear  in  the  eye,  boys, 

For  those  we  shall  meet  no  more. 

The  world  has  its  bitter  and  sweet,  boys, 

A  smile  or  a  kick  for  all; 
A  place  for  our  weary  feet,  boys, 

Or  an  answer  as  bitter  as  gall. 

But  it's  pretty  much  what  we  make  it,  boys; 

It's  tender,  and  crabbed,  too ; 
It  leaves  you  when  you  forsake  it,  boys, 

And  clings  to  you  when  you  are  true. 

18 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  sometimes  it's  beauty  and  bloom,  boys, 

With  flowers   along  the  way; 
And  then   it's  drizzle  and  gloom,  boys, 

And  skies  that  are  sodden  and  grey. 

I've  sometimes  been  pretty  blue,  boys, 

While  toiling  along  the  way, 
And  wished  I  could  be  with  you,  boys, 

And   hear  what  you   had   to   say. 

And  oft  when  I  suffer  wrong,  boys, 
And  patience  is  put  to  the  test, 

The  way  seems  weary  and  long,  boys, 
And  I  dream  of  the  end  and  rest. 

It'll  soon  be  the  crack  o'  doom,  boys, 
And  rest  and  a  dreamless  sleep ; 

And  they'll  lay  us  away  in  the  tomb,  boys, 
And  others  will  toil  and  weep. 


BLACKWATER  CHAPEL. 

I'll  sing  you  a  song  of  old   Blackwater  Chapel, 

Where  oft  by  the  tree  on  the  greensward  we  stood 
While  brave  men  who  ever  were  ready  to  grapple 
With  duty  sat  there  in  the  church  by  the  wood; 
Dear,   faithful  old  men ! 
Time,  time  and   again 
They  strove  for  the  right  and  the  pure  and  the  good. 

They  stood  for  the  right  in  the  day  of  temptation 

When   strong  men   were   quailing  and   hard   was  the 

fight; 

They  fought  through  the  battle  without  trepidation, 
Well  knowing  their  Captain  was  ever  in  sight; 
And  while  He  was  near 
They  never  knew  fear; 
The  yoke  was  made  easy,  the  burden  made  light. 

19 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

How  fortunate  was  it  that  we  were  enfolded 

In  love  such  as  theirs  in  the  day  of  our  need, 
The  years  when  our  characters  largely  were  moulded 
And  freely  the  tempter  was  sowing  his  seed; 
With  tenderest  care 
They  guarded  us  there 
Till  precept  had  burgeoned  and  blossomed  in  deed. 

Gregg,   Gibson,   the  Wheelers,   Scruggs,   Chipman    and 

Spurgeon, 

Smith,  Winston,  the  Siceloffs,  were  always  on  hand, 
And  Walker  and  Triplett,  with  seed  that  will  burgeon 
And  blossom  in  beauty  in  many  a  land 
Where   children   shall   hear 
Through  many  a  year 
The  tale  of  that  faithful,  heroic  old  band. 

I  came  to  those  men  when  my  days  were  in  danger 

From  pitfalls  and  snares  that  the  young  ever  meet; 
And  though  but  a  wayward,  indifferent  stranger 
They  sought  me  and  guided  my  wandering  feet 
To  ways  of  all  truth, 
And  bound  me  in  youth 
By  ties  that  have  ever  been  tender  and  sweet. 

They  came  to  me  often  and  earnestly  pleaded 
The  cause  the  believer  has  ever  held  dear ; 
And  while  their  good  counsel  too  long  was  unheeded, 
It  burgeoned  and  grew  after  many  a  year; 
They  ceased  not  to  plead, 
But  sowed  the  good  seed, 
Assured  that  the  harvest  would  some  day  appear. 

I  firmly  believe  if  kind  fate  had  not  brought  me 
Away  from  men  given  to  grovel  and  grope, 

Where  evil  companions  successfully  sought  me, 
And  given  me  friends  full  of  faith,  love  and  hope, 

20 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

As  decades  passed  by 
I  might  have  swung  high 
And  ended  my  days  at  the  end  of  a  rope. 

When  weighing  the  causes  that  tended  to  make  me 

The  man  that  I  am  both  for  evil  and  good 
I  find  my  inquiries  unconsciously  take  me 

Straight  back  to  the  Church  that  stood  there  by  the 

wood, 

And   those   faithful   men, 
Who  worshiped   there  then, 
And  ever  for  truth  and  integrity  stood. 

O,  sweet  and  salubrious,  fresh  as  the  morning, 

The  atmosphere  was  that  surrounded  us  there; 
Those  men,  true  and  faithful,  had  nothing  but  scorning 
For  vicious  and  profligate  people  who  dare 
To  cozen  frail  youth 
To  ways  of  untruth 
And  pleasure's  mephitic,  enervating  air. 

Hail !  men  good  and  true,  who  so  patiently  guided 

Our  feet  in  the  way  that  led  up  to  the  light; 
All  honor  to  men  who,  when  evil  betided, 

In  tenderness  turned  us  from  wrong  unto  right; 
Hail !  men  good  and  true, 
Gone  home,  all  but  two ; 
Brave  men  who  triumphantly  fought  the  good  fight. 


JOHNSON  WHEELER. 

O,  he  was  a  wonderful 
Man  that  was  under  full 

Sail  all  his  days  to  the 

Regions  of  light ; 
Who  stood  in  the  frent  of  the 
Fray;  and  the  brunt  of  the 

Battle  was  fought  where  he 

Smote    with    his    might. 

21 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

He  constantly  wrought   in  the 
Cause  and  he  fought  in  the 

Army  that  marched  with  the 

Banner  of  truth; 
His  voice  ever  rang  and  he 
Joyfully  sang,  and  he 

Brought   men    to   God    in   the 

Days  of  their  youth. 

He  strove  with  a  will  every 
Task  to  fulfill ;  every 

Kind,  loving  word  to  a 

Neighbor  to  speak; 
With  heart  full  of  cheer  and  a 
Lenient   ear   and   a 

Grasp  of  the  hand  for  the 

Lowly  and  meek. 

He  ever  besought  us,  and 
Patiently  taught  us,  and 

Led  us  in  ways  that  the 

Master  had  trod ; 
Whatever  betided  he 
Tenderly  guided,  he 

Lovingly  turned  erring 

Mortals  to  God. 

Dear,  faithful,  old  friend,  he  was, 
True  to  the  end ;  he  was 

Found  at  his  post  till  his 

Labors  were  o'er ; 

Then  still  grew  the  tongue  that  had 
Guided  the  young,  that  had 

Pointed  the  way  to  the 

Heavenly  shore. 

And  sweet  be  his  rest  in  the 
Land  of  the  blest,  in  the 

Mansions  above,  where  no 

Tears  ever  flow; 

22 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  where  we  shall  meet  him  and 
Tenderly  greet  him  and 

Love  him  again  as  we 

Loved  him  below. 


ROSALIND. 

Her  life  is  a  flower 
That  blooms  every  hour 

And   scatters   its   fragrance 

Wherever  she  goes ; 
And  brings  to  her  mother, 
Her  father  and  brother, 

A  gladness  that  swells  till 

The  heart  overflows. 

She  shrinks  from  no  duty; 

And    ethical    beauty 

Adorns  every  action 
From  morning  till  night; 
The  Light  of  the  Saviour 

Inspires  her  behavior 

And  guides  her  in  ways  that 
Are  joyous  and  bright. 


THE  SUBSTITUTE. 

'Twas  a  winter  day 

And  the  teacher  lay 
In  his  bed  too  ill  for  teaching ; 

So  he  said  he'd  send 

In  his  place  his   friend 
Who  had  taught,  though  his  work  was  preaching. 

23 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Brother  Preacher  went ; 

And  the  day  was  spent 
In   imparting  truth  and   chiding; 

And  the  sturdy  youth 

As  he  taught  the  truth 
Up  and  down  the  aisle  went  striding. 

Close  beside  the  aisle 

With   suspicious   smile, 
Sat  a  youth,  a  husky  creature; 

And  there  seemed  no  doubt 

As  his  foot  stuck  out 
He  was  trying  to  trip  the  teacher. 

With  a  tricksome  slip 

When  he  failed  to  trip, 
The  young  man  would  then  withdraw  it; 

But  the  trick  was  vain; 

For  it  seemed  quite  plain 
That   the   watchful  teacher   saw  it. 

But  the  lad  was  green ; 

And  too  dull,  I  ween, 
To  perceive  that  the  man  would  watch  him; 

On   his   frolic  bent 

He  was  too  intent 
To  perceive  that  the  man  would  scotch  him. 

So  it  chanced  at  last 

As  the  teacher  passed 
And  the  foot  straight  out  came  sticking, 

That  the  teacher  grabbed 

And  the  foot  was  nabbed, 
And  was  held  in  despite  of  kicking. 

And  the  teacher  put 

The  adventurous  foot 
'Neath  his  arm  and   went  on  walking; 

And  he  never  stopped 

As  the  young  man  hopped 
And  the  teacher  went  on  talking. 

24 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  he  taught  and  talked, 

And   he   taught   and   walked; 
And  the  pupils  wrote  and  figured; 

Brother  Preacher  smiled, 

And  the  youth  was  riled, 
And  the  pupils  sat  and  sniggered. 


DEBRIS. 

He  built  him  a  house  on  a  street  that  was  clean 
Where  idleness,  fashion  and  folly  held  sway, 
Where  statesmen  and  jurists  and  writers  were  seen, 
Where   vanity  madly  ran  riot  all  day ; 

And  custom  and  law,  in  that  home  of  the  free, 
Exacting,   relentless,   demanded   that  he 
Must  clean  up  the  ground  and  remove  the  debris; 
And  he  paid  the  cost  with  a  temper  serene. 

He  built  him  a  factory  down  where  you  see 

The  toilers  with  faces  all  anxious  and  worn, 
The  mothers  clad  thinly,  though  cold  it  may  be, 
The  children  in  garments  all  threadbare  and  torn ; 
The  maimed  and  unfit  disappeared  from  the  scene ; 
Their  destitute  families  grew  hungry  and  lean ; 
He  built  up  a  fortune  with  temper  serene, 
But  what  did  he  do  with  his  human  debris? 


THE  TRAMPS. 

Beside  his  open  window  on  the  prairie 
The  station  agent  ate  his  noonday  feast; 

Two  hungry  tramps  \vent  by  in  mood  so  merry 
And  said :  "Report  two  empties  goin'  east." 

25 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Within  a  box  car  as  the  train  was  flying 
And  madly  leaping  as  the  speed  increased 

The  tramp  said  sadly,  as  his  pard  was  dying: 
"This  morning  but  one  empty's  goin'  east !" 

A  crash,  a  plunge,  and  down  beside  the  river 
A  restless,  wandering  spirit  was  released ; 

A  mangled  form,  a  gasp,  a  ghastly  quiver; 
And  then,  there  were  no  empties  goin'  east ! 


ANNIE. 

May  good  angels  guide  thee, 
May  woes  ne'er  betide  thee, 

\Vhere  e'er  thou  shalt  go; 
It  grieves  us  to  leave  thee; 
May  good  friends  receive  thee 

Where  e'er  thou  shalt  go. 

We  ever  shall  love  thee ; 
May  angels  above  thee, 

Where  e'er  thou  shalt  go, 
In  kindness  attend  thee; 
Our   prayers   we   shall   send   thee 

Where  e'er  thou  shalt  go. 

We  ne'er  can  forget  thee 
What  e'er  may  beset  thee 

Where  e'er  thou  shalt  go. 
May  joy  ne'er  forsake  thee 
But  smiles  overtake  thee 

Where  e'er  thou  shalt  go. 

No  more  we  may  meet  thee ; 
Yet  glad  we  would  greet  thee ; 

Where  e'er  thou  shalt  go. 
May  nought  ever  grieve  thee, 
May  no  one  deceive  thee 

Where  e'er  thou  shalt  go. 

26 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 


THE  SHAMBLER. 

The  Christian  who's  advancing, 
Whose   value   is   enhancing, 

Will  scarcely  stoop 

To  join  the  group 
Who  give  their  time  to  dancing. 

She  who  abounds  in  praying 
Will  not  go  gaily  straying 

Where   fashion's    dames 

Their  euchre  games 
And  bridge  and  whist  are  playing. 

Those  who  in  boundless  measure 

Have   laid    up    heavenly   treasure 

Eschew  the  plays 

Where  nights  and  days 

The  worldly   seek  their  pleasure. 

At   Sunday  school  on   Sunday; 
At  cards  or  plays  on  Monday; 

Or  else,  perchance, 

A  worldly  dance ; 
A  wretched  salmagundi. 

Do  you  whose  Christian  graces 
Invite  you  to   such  places 

Seek  comfort  where 

The  hour  of  prayer 
Brings  light  to  care-worn  faces? 

Does  your  responsive   greeting 
At  every  mid-week  meeting 

Cheer   every  heart 

And  bear  its  part 
In  heartfelt  prayer  repeating? 

27 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Do  you  on  Sunday  morning 
Proclaim  the  timely  warning 

To  eager  youth 

To  seek  the  truth 
And  flee  from  doubt  and  scorning? 

And   when   your   toil-worn  preacher, 
The  harassed,  weary  creature, 

Has  work  to  do 

Does  he  choose  you 
As  leader  or  as  teacher? 

Nay,   Sister!     Nay,   my   Brother! 
Your  pastor  seeks  another, 

Who  never   strays 

In  worldly  ways ; 
Some  faithful,  praying  mother. 

The  blessed   Holy    Spirit 
Communes  with  those  who  hear  it; 

But  cards  and  plays 

And  worldly  ways 
Will  never  lead  us  near  it. 

These  doubtful  pleasures  call  you 
Where  dangers  may  befall  you; 

Too   swift   and   sure 

Their  fatal   lure ; 
And  vice  may  soon  enthrall  you. 

When  Christians  take  to  rambling 
The  road  is  short  to  shambling; 

And   not  too  long 

To  maudlin  song 
And  brothel-house  and  gambling. 

To  put  the  matter  plainly 
The  man  is  striving  vainly 

Who   thinks   to   rise 

Yet   shuts   his   eyes 
Then  plunges  down  insanely. 

28 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 


GWENDOLYN. 

When  spring's  gentle  breezes  blew  in  from  the  sea 
And  bird  songs  rang  gaily  in  garden  and  tree, 
Across  from  my  window  just  over  the   way 
Two  sweet  little  children  were  ever  at  play. 

I  saw  by  their  dresses,  their  tresses  and  curls 
That  they  were  two  dear  little  frolicsome  girls; 
And  ever  it  happened  that  day  after  day 
Dear  Gwendolyn  hastily  scampered  away. 

She  seemed  not  to  have  any  object  in  view 
Except  to  be  gone,  and  she  merrily  flew; 
She  oft  left  her  sister  at  play  on  the  lawn 
And  followed  the  path  that  her  father  had  gone. 

She  left  in  the  roadway  her  wee  little  track; 
And  often  she  turned  as  she  ran  and  looked  back, 
Well   knowing  the  mother's  soft,   sheltering  arm 
Would  soon  shield  her  wandering  darling  from  harm. 

One  day  when  she  wandered  she  came  to  me  here 
And  jumped  in  my  lap  without  scruple  or  fear, 
And  nestled  her  little  face  close  to  my  breast 
Just  as  a  wee  birdie  asleep  in  its  nest. 

Then  hearing  the  call  of  her  mother  she  ran, 
As  if  the  return  were  a  part  of  the  plan, 
And,  putting  her  hand  in  her  mother's  she  smiled 
The  heavenly  smile  of  an  innocent  child. 

We  dreamed  not  that  when  the  June  roses  would  bloom 
And  gladden  that  child  with  their  tints  and  perfume, 
The  wander-lust  call  would  entice  her  away 
To  wander  where  only  the  angels  may  stray. 

29 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

O,  sweet,  little  bird,  whither  now  is  she  flown, 

So  far  from  her  dear  ones,  her  loved  and  her  own, 

Her  wee  little  sister  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 

Who  asks  for  her  playmate  with  sobbing  and  sighs  ? 

O,  there  in  the  way  is  her  wee  little  track, 
She  calls,  she  awaits  them,  she  ever  looks  back — • 
No  fear  in  her  heart  and  no  tears  in  her  eyes, 
Awaiting  her  mother  tip  there  in  the  skies. 

O,  mother  !     O,  father  !    Your  spirits  attune 
To  hear  the  sweet  voice  that  grew  silent  in  June 
Where  heaven's  sweet  symphonies  ever  are  sung 
And  ever  employ  your  dear  Gwendolyn's  tongue. 


A  WISH. 

O,  would  we  could  sing  with  the  bards  of  the  ages 
Inspiring  the  hearts  of  the  millions  of  earth, 

The  tyrants  and  patriots,  prophets  and  sages, 
To  value  all  men  at  their  ethical  worth ! 

O,  could  we  but  love  as  our  dear,  blessed  Master, 
All  mortals  in  spite  of  their  leanness  of  soul, 

The  great  day  would  hasten  still  faster  and  faster 
When  gladness  would  reign  far  as  sea  billows  roll ! 

Or  plead  as  an  angel  in  words  that  were  burning 
With  mortals  to  flee  the  attractions  of  sin 

Ere  the  mills  of  the  gods,  although  slow  in  their  turning, 
Crush  all  whom  the  tempter  can  gather  within ! 

O,  that  we  could  sing  as  at  dawn  of  the  morning 
The  mocking  bird  flings  its  proud  notes  to  the  skies 

And  send  to  the  fallen  of  earth  the  glad  warning 
To  flee  to  the  One  that  can  help  them  arise! 

30 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Or  had  we  the  wisdom  of  prophets  and  sages 

To  lead  erring  mortals,  the  weak  and  the  strong, 

The  base  and  depraved  of  all  ranks  and  all  ages, 
To  cleave  to  the  right  and  to  flee  from  the  wrong! 

O,  that  we  might  fly  on  a  Heaven-born  pinion 
With  swiftness  and  ken  of  an  angel  of  light, 

Wherever  apostles  of  wrong  have  dominion 

And  shatter  their  thrones  in  defense  of  the  right ! 

Or  could  we  but  go  where  the  greedy  despoiler 

Lays  tribute  on  homes  where  the  mother  hearts  bleed, 

Or  filches  the  earnings  of  many  a  toiler, 

And  stay  his  strong  hand  when  the  fatherless  plead ! 


MAGGIE. 

The  water  was  gone  and  their  strength  was  gone, 

And  the  sun  blazed  out  on  high; 
They  mounted  the  horses  and  hurried  on, 

While  a  furnace  glowed  in  the  sky ; 
The  heart  grew  faint  as  the  men  of  brawn 

Well  knew  that  the  end  was  nigh. 

Deserting  poor  Maggie,  the  friendless  squaw, 
Whose  husband  was  lying  there  dead, 

Those  men  of  the  desert  where  might  was  law, 
Took  their  children  and  wives  and  fled. 

She  begged  to  be  taken  along  with  their  wives. 

She  looked  in  their  eyes  and  plead. 
They  said  they  would  save  no  Indians'  lives — 

That  all  the  good  Indians  were  dead; 
That  nothing  of  good  in  the  heart  e'er  thrives 

When  the  hue  of  the  skin  is  red. 

31 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

One  look  where  the  Indian  was  lying  low, 

One  plaintive  and  piercing  wail, 
And  Maggie  was  off  in  the  furnace  glow, 

And  followed  the  blistering  trail. 

The  riders  all  reckless  too  rashly  rode 

In  search  of  a  spring  or  well ; 
And,  roasted  and  crushed  by  their  heavy  load, 

The  famishing  horses  fell. 

Where  deeply  the  sun  had  impressed  its  stamp 

Those  men  of  true  pluck  and  brawn 
Afoot  struggled  on  in  a  fruitless  tramp 

Till  half  of  the  night  was  gone ; 
And  Maggie  arrived  in  the  parching  camp 

Not  far  from  the  hour  of  dawn. 

When  morning  appeared  and  the  scorching  breath 

Swept  down  from  the  blazing  sky 
And  burned  every  living  thing  to  death, 

A  terrible  fate  seemed  nigh. 

Away  went  the   men  through  the  burning  sands 

In  search  of  the  far-off  springs, 
With  blistering  faces  and  feet  and  hands, 

And  fear  of  more  dreadful  thing's. 
O,  braver  the  hearts  of  the  desert  lands 

Than  the  hearts  in  the  homes  of  kings! 

The  women  remained  to  await  their  fate, 

Exposed  to  the  raging  heat, 
With  nothing  to   drink,  though  their  thirst  was  great, 

And  scarcely  a  morsel  to  eat. 

No  shield  from  the  sun  but  an  outspread  shawl; 

And  none  from  the  earth  beneath; 
And  no  one  but  Maggie  to  hear  their  call, 

Or  weave  them  a  funeral  wreath. 

32 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

As  morn  disappeared  and  the  noonday  came 

And  the  sun-dogs  began  to  play 
The  pitiless  heaven  seemed  all  aflame, 

And  perishing  there  they  lay ; 
While  tender  maiden  and  stronger  dame 

All  flung  their  garments  away. 

Their  courage  was  gone  and  their  hope  was  gone; 

Their  tongues  were  swollen  and  dry ; 
A  red-hot  wind,  since  the  early  dawn, 

Had  blown  from  the  brazen  sky ; 
And  Maggie  sat  silent  as  hours  dragged  on, 

And  nought  remained  but  to  die. 

They  made  up  their  minds  as  the  moments  passed 

And  famishing  there  they  lay 
To  start  for  the  spring,  and  the  die  was  cast ; 

No  longer  there  they  would  stay ; 
They  said  the)*  would  tramp  through  the  fiery  blast, 

Though  perish  they  might  by  the  way. 

And  painfully  crawling  along  they  went, 

Along  on  the  burning  sands ; 
Their   single  garment  was  torn  and  rent, 

And  bloody  their  feet  and  hands ; 
Their  flesh  was  torn  and  their  blood  was  blent 

With  tears  where  the  cactus  stands. 

And  when  they  no  longer  had  strength  to  creep 

They  dug  a  trench  in  the  ground, 
And  covered  themselves  from  the  sun's  full  sweep 

Till  water  and  help  could  be  found; 
Or  where  if  they  sank  to  their  final  sleep 

They'd  lie  till  the  last  trump's  sound. 

Though  used  to  the  desert  as  years  went  by, 

To  thirst  and  a  fading  trail, 
Old  Maggie  looked  up  at  the  blazing  sky, 

And  her  courage  appeared  to  fail. 

33 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

She  gave  but  a  glance  where  the  women  lay 

That  gave  little  clue  to  her  mind, 
And  over  the  desert  she  took  her  way, 

And  never  once  looked  behind. 

The  wind  became  still  and  the  desert  air 

Lay  hot  as  a  boiling  wave ; 
The  famishing  women  in  blank  despair 

Lay  there  in  a  living  grave ; 
One  lost  her  reason  and  tore  her  hair, 

With  no  loving  hand  to  save. 

Far  over  the  hills  by  a  desert  spring 

Their  husbands  had  lain  all  day, 
Unable  to  stand  or  attempt  to  bring 

Supply  where  the  women  lay. 

And  there  when  the  evening  shadows  fell 

As  hot  as  Gehenna's  breath, 
The  moment  drew  nigh  when  no  tongue  could  tell 

The  tragical  tale  of  death. 

When  all  became  still  as  the  home  of  the  dead, 

And  scarcely  a  pulse  was  stirred, 
A  weary,  a  feeble,  and  stealthy  tread 

Along  the  hot  trail  was  heard. 

No  hand  was  lifted,  no  eye  looked  up, 

So  low  was  the  current  run ; 
But  parched  lips  drank  from  the  brimming  cup, 

And  Maggie's  brave  work  was  done. 

Three  days  in  the  blistering,  blasting  heat 

The  women  were  forced  to  stay ; 
And  over  the  trail  where  the  sun's  rays  beat 

Old  Maggie  brought  water  each  day, 
iWhile  sorely  she  yearned  to  direct  her  feet 

To  where  the  dead  Indian  lay. 

34 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 


THE  CIRCLE  LETTER. 

Some  bonnie  clear  letters  came  to-day, 

A  bunch  as  thick  as  your  hand, 
All  pinned  together  in  a  careless  way; 
And  though  they  had  met  six  months'  delay, 
As  if  they  had  been  to  far  Cathay, 

Those  little  old  letters  were  grand.  . 

And  I  read  those  letters  o'er  and  o'er, 

I  read  them  one  by  one; 

And  my  heart  was  stirred  to  its  inmost  core 
By  the  welcome  words  from  friends  of  yore, 
Some  of  whom,  no  doubt,  I  shall  see  no  more, 
Till  we  meet  at  last  on  the  viewless  shore, 

When  our  earthly  walk  is  done. 

Then  back  through  the  misty  years  I  went, 

To  seventy-two  to  eight ; 
When  some  of  our  bonniest  hours  were  spent, 
Ere  any  of  us  with  care  was  bent, 
Wrhen  sorrow  and  care  to  the  rear  were  sent- 

The  years  when  we  paid  no  freight. 

So  warm  were  the  words,  so  full  of  cheer, 

So  rollicking,  jolly,  and  bright, 
That  each  fellow's  voice  I  seemed  to  hear 
As  often  I  heard  it  bland  and  clear 
In  many  a  sunny,  bygone  year ; 
They  jostle  my  heart  clean  out  of  gear, 

So  wildly  it  throbs  to-night. 

But  fellows,  alas !  I  dinna  ken 

Why  Tommy  should  cut  us  out ; 
I  wrote  him  to  join  us,  wrote  again, 
But  got  not  a  word,  no  scratch  of  pen, 
From  Tommy,  the  best  of  princely  men, 
The  Tommy  I  never  could  doubt. 

35 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

But  here's  to  the  one  we  leave  behind, 

The  Tommy  we  all  loved  well ; 
A  boy  with  a  heart  so  good  and  kind; 
A  man  with  a  vigorous,  healthy  mind; 
The  man  with  a  spirit  twice  refined ; 
Whose  word  was  as  good  as  a  bond  when  signed, 

Our  bonnie  dear  boy,  farewell. 

And  here's  to  the  fellows  that  go  along, 

That  sail  in  the  same  old  boat; 
That  stay  with  the  crowd  whether  right  or  wrong; 
That  sing  whether  sombre  or  glad  the  song; 
That  hammer  the  drum  or  bang  the  gong, 

To  keep  the  old  vessel  afloat. 

We  sailed  in  the  same  boat  long  ago, 

When  bright  shone  the  morning  sun; 
We  pulled  at  the  oar  in  the  early  glow, 
When  swift  was  the  current's  onward  flow, 
And  nothing  there  was  to  make  life  slow, 
Wlien  the  race  was  scarce  begun. 

We  lingered  a  while  on  the  river  side 

Where  the  fairest  flowers  grew ; 
We  leisurely  drifted  with  the  tide 
And  slowly  allowed  our  craft  to  glide; 
Then  pulling  the  throttle  open  wide 

We  sang  as  we  onward  flew. 

And  then  when  the  heat  of  the  day  was  come 

We  found  there  was  work  to  do ; 
We  landed  the  boat  and  smashed  the  drum ; 
We  shattered  the  gong  and  left  it  dumb; 
We  hustled  in  earnest  and  made  things  hum; 
We  gathered  the  harvest  and  wasted  some; 
Till  now  we  are  tired  and  somewhat  bum 

And  are  looking  around  for  the  crew. 

36 


UNIVERSITY    I 

OF  / 


o RNIA  SONGS 

And  there  in  the  west  is  the  setting  sun, 

And  the  night  is  drawing  nigh ; 
All  ready  is  the  boat  for  the  homeward  run, 
So  hurry  aboard  and  join  the  fun 
Ere  the  race  is  finished  and  the  day  is  done, 

And  we're  called  to  our  home  on  high. 

Quite  frail  is  the  boat  and  rough  is  the  way, 

And  some  one  may  soon  be  lost; 
So  steady  on  your  oars  and  pull,  I  say ; 
And  sing  a  merry  song  while  yet  you  may, 
For  some  one  may  sink  'neath  the  wave  to-day, 

And  the  rest  be  tempest  tossed. 

So  jolly  old  fellows,  don't  break  away, 

As  long  as  the  bark  will  float; 
I  know  we  are  old  and  turning  gray, 
We  have  shot  our  wads  and  played  our  play, 
Have  been  frazzled  out  for  many  a  day, 
And  soon,  whether  we  vote  yea  or  nay, 

We'll  sail  for  a  shore  remote. 

But  let's  whoop  it  up  for  a  short  time  yet, 

Ere  the  old  craft  runs  aground ; 
Ere  shadows  grow  long  and  the  sun  shall  set; 
Don't  worry  and  stew  and  fume  and  fret, 
And  scramble  for  gold  till  there's  none  to  get; 
Don't  gather  in  fish  till  you  break  your  net; 
Put  up  an  old  sign,  "A  Farm  to  Let," 
And  stay  in  the  house  when  it's  cold  and  wet; 
Sing  like  an  old  tar  or  a  young  soubrette ; 
Be  merry  as  when  of  old  we  met ; 
And  whate'er  you  do,  boys,  don't  forget 

Your  Servant  when  his  sleep  is  sound. 


37 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 


THE  QUEEN? 

In  beauty  she  sat  with  the  king  on  the  throne ; 
The  peer  of  the  proudest  in  jewels  she  shone; 

In  living  for  pleasure 

The  peer  beyond  measure 
Of  any  fair  mortal  men  ever  had  known ; 

The  peer  in  her  notion, 

That  steadfast  devotion 
To  earth's  gilded  ways  will  bring  mortals  their  own. 

She  bowed  at  her  shrine ;  yea,  quite  proudly   she  trod 
The  pathway  that  led  to  the  temple  of  God; 

In  strictest  seclusion, 

Disdaining   intrusion 
Of  mortals  ignobly  allied  to  the  clod, 

She  learned  of  her  duty 

'Mid  splendor  and  beauty, 
While  meekly  the  millions  passed  under  the  rod. 

Each  day  on  her  wardrobe  was  spent  enough  gold 

To  clothe  and  feed  scores  that  went  hungry  and  cold; 

She  knew  they  were  dying, 

She  knew  they  were  crying 
For  raiment  and  food  for  the  sick  and  the  old, 

Yet  scattered  her  treasure 

In  frivolous  measure, 
And  lavish  expenses  too  great  to  be  told. 

She  talked  with  the  learned,  the  wise  and  the  great, 
Who  guided  in  safety  the  Church  and  the  State, 

Whose  golden  opinions 

Throughout  her  dominions, 
Were  sought  by  the  wise  for  their  value  and  weight, 

Then  gave  to  her  dresses, 

And  gem-bedecked  tresses, 
Her  time  and  her  money  both  early  and  late. 

38 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

She  often  had  more  than  one  dress  for  each  day; 
And  once  having  worn  one  she  cast  it  away ; 

Gores,  gussets,  and  creases, 

'Twas  taken  to  pieces, 
And  sent  piece  by  piece  to  the  giddy  and  gay; 

She  wasted  thus  gaily 

Full  gold  enough  daily 
To  build  a  small   schoolhouse  where  riot  held  sway. 

Her  elegant  kennels  were  cozy  and  clean, 
And   stood   where   the   lawns   and   the   trees   were  kept 
green  ; 

The  food  was  inspected, 

And  nothing  neglected 
To  keep  the  dear  quadruped  inmates  serene ; 

Their  numbers  exceeded, 

For  oft  they  were  needed 
To  drive  away  folks  that  were  hungry  and  lean. 

The  owner  came  often  and  fondled  them  there, 
Where  bright  was  the  sunshine  and  pure  was  the  air ; 

And  oft  they  went   riding 

While  modestly  hiding 
Beneath  the  warm  cloaks  of  an  ermine-clad  pair, 

While  down  in  the  crowded 

And  shadow-enshrouded, 
Congested  environs  were  want  and  despair. 

Her  stables  were  spacious,  expensive,  and  fine; 
Her  equerries  drank  but  the  choicest  of  wine; 

The  stud  was  extensive, 

And  all  was  expensive, 
And  millions  were  spent  with  ignoble  design, 

Amid  the  down-trodden, 

The  stolid  and  sodden, 
Who  hopelessly   lived  but   to   fret  and   repine. 

Her  yachts  wrere  the  swiftest  that  flew  o'er  the  wave ; 
And  nothing  was  spared  that  the  wealth  of  earth  gave 

39 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

To  add  to  their  beauty; 

She  thought  it  her  duty 
To  squander  the  millions  that  taxpayers  gave 

To  add  to  the  pleasure, 

In  infinite  measure, 
Of  those  who  earned  nothing  from  birth  to  the  grave. 

Superbly  her  palaces  towered  on  high, 

Where  bloom-bordered  lakelets  lay  under  the  sky; 

And  coziest  bowers, 

And  sweet-scented  flowers, 
Shed  fragrance  and  beauty  as  days  drifted  by; 

While  many  a  mother, 

Or  wee  little  brother, 
In  wretched  surroundings  was  fated  to  die. 

Her  levees  were  made  up  of  people  who  spurned 
The  things  with  which  people  should  most  be  concerned, 

Who  wasted  their  treasure 

In  following  pleasure, 
In  sowing  the  seed  that  in  folly  returned, 

While  heartlessly  reaping 

What  others  in  weeping, 
And  sorrow  and  stern  self-denial  had  earned. 

Her  life  drifted  on  like  a  beautiful  dream ; 

Its  joys  and  its  pleasures  to  her  were  supreme; 

No  tears  for  the  dying, 

No  cheer  for  the  sighing, 
And  suffering  ones  that  Christ  died  to  redeem; 

She  saved  her  emotion, 

And  tender  devotion, 
For  those  she  thought  worthy  of  queenly  esteem. 

Her  life  was  a  symphony  sung,  but  unheard ; 

No  soul  was  enraptured,  no  noble  thought  stirred; 

No  dark  sky  was  rifted, 

No  soul  was  uplifted; 

40 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

Her  life  was  mere  emptiness  smutted  and  blurred; 

Its  beauties  were  wasted, 

Its  sweetness  untasted— 
The  dark  shadows  lingered  and  hope  was  deferred, 

She  thought  she  was  like  a  proud  bird  in  its  flight, 
That  soared  through  the  regions  of  glory  and  light, 

While  birds  that  were  rarest, 

Of  plumage  the  fairest, 
Alone  were  permitted  to  bask  in  her  sight, 

And  felt  that  all  others, 

The  kites  and  their  brothers, 
Ignobly  should  fly  to  the  regions  of  night. 

She  knew  not  and  dreamed  not  that  worthy  men  knew 
Where  birds  of  fair  plumage  and  sweet  singers  flew ; 

And  never  suspected 

Such  men  had  rejected 
Her  false  claim  to  fly  in  the  skies  fair  and  blue; 

And  thought  it  more  fitting, 

That  she  should  go  flitting 
Like  bats  in  the  darkness  where  noisome  things  grew. 

And  worthy  men  knew  that  the  feathers  of  gold 

That  decked  her  proud  flock,  if  the  truth  were  but  told, 

Were  plucked  so  unkindly 

From  owners  who  blindly 
Submitted  and  meekly  went  half-clad  and  cold; 

Their  costliest  winings, 

And  daintiest  dinings, 
Were  taxed  on  the  toil  of  the  young  and  the  old. 

She  lived  and  she  died  in  a  temper  serene, 
'Mid  gardens  of  beauty  and  bowers  of  green; 

And  though  she  was  gifted, 

Yet  idly  she  drifted, 
And  floated  with  flotsam  where  wreckage  was  seen; 

Exalted  in  station, 

Adored  by  the  Nation, 
Yet,  tell  me,  dear  reader,  oh  !  was  she  a  queen  ? 

41 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 


DARKNESS  AND  LIGHT. 

My  feet  have  grown  weary,  my  eyes  become  dim; 
And  over  my  pathway  all  rugged  and  grim, 

With  ominous  greeting 

The  shadows  are  fleeting; 
The   darkness  creeps  over  the  earth's   distant  rim, 

And  tells  me  my  roaming 

Will  end  in  the  gloaming, 
Where  Baca's  dark  flood  fills  its  banks  to  the  brim. 

As  quietly  gather  the  shades  of  the  night, 

And  earthly  and  sordid  things  fade  from  the  sight, 

Then  nearer  and  nearer, 

And  clearer  and  clearer, 
The  great  and  eternal  things,  love,  truth,  and  right, 

And  self-abnegation, 

And  conquered  temptation, 
Transcendently  shine  with  a  glorious  light. 

And  things  that  have  long  been  imperfectly  seen, 
Shine  out  as  the  stars  in  their  grandeur  serene; 

The  fruit  of  denial ; 

And  conflict  and  trial; 
The  pain  and  the  sorrow  that  oft  intervene, 

So  dimly  revealing, 

And  often  concealing 
The  arm  on  which  man  may  confidingly  lean. 

The  faith  and  obedience  constantly  taught, 
The  happy  achievement,  the  victories  wrought, 

In  patience  or  meekness, 

In  strength  or  in  weakness, 
When  God's  revealed  will  is  implicitly  sought, 

Shine  out  in  those  pages 

That   tell  how  the   sages 
And  prophets  their  battles  triumphantly  fought 

42 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

Mysterious  things  at  first  shrouded  in  gloom 
Unfold  as  the  petals  and  burst  into  bloom 

With  rich  exhalations, 

And  pure  emanations, 
Of  healing  and  beauty  and  precious  perfume; 

A  sweet-smelling  savor 

Of  God's  loving  favor 
To  sweeten  and  brighten  the  road  to  the  tomb. 

Things  difficult  once  for  the  heart  to  believe, 

And  things  that  the  carnal  mind  could  not  perceive, 

In  faith's  clearer  vision, 

And  years  of  decision, 
No  more  their  false  web  of  deception  could  weave ; 

But  brightened  with  beauty 

The  pathway  of  duty, 
Enabling  the  pilgrim  lost  years  to  retrieve. 

The  specious,  insidious,  clamorous  belief, 
As  bold  as  a  robber,  yet  sly  as  a  thief, 

Which,  false  and  misleading, 

So  often  comes  pleading, 
That  faith  will  assist  us.  but  reason  is  chief — 

Is  but  a  deceiver 

To  guide  the  believer 
To  danger  from  maelstrom,  rock,  shallow,  and  reef. 

This  hoary  belief  is  as  false  as  the  years; 
Yet  ofttimes  in  truth's  stolen  garb  it  appears, 

And  gets  recognition 

And  lofty  position 
Among  those  that  pose  as  true  teachers  and  seers, 

And  dialecticians, 

And  clever  logicians, 
But  flee  when  confronted  with  penitents'  tears. 

On  this  false  belief  men  erect  with  great  care 
Their  structures  and  systems  imposing  and  fair; 

43 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Men  noted  for  learning, 
Sagacious,  discerning, 

When  searching  the  Scriptures  audaciously  dare, 
To  lay  their  foundations 
In  ratiocinations, 
And  leave  out  the  cornerstone,  heart-searching  prayer. 

The  scholar  who  searches  for  spiritual  truth 
To  spread  as  a  feast  before  hungering  youth, 

Armed  mainly  with  reason, 

Is  guilty  of  treason ; 
And  scatters  the  seeds  that  will  burgeon  in  ruth; 

The  scholarly  critic 

Spreads  virile,  mephitic, 
Seductive,  destructive  ideas,  in  sooth. 

When  God's  revealed  will  by  His  Children  is  heard, 
Unless  our  proud  hearts  into  vaunting  are  stirred, 

God's  chastening  spirit, 

If  meekly  we  hear  it, 
Will  show  us  the  things  that  are  taught  in  His  Word ; 

And  safely  will  guide  us, 

And  tenderly  hide  us, 
Where  faith  is  not  shaken  and  hope  not  deferred. 


DYING. 

They  say  he  is  dying,  his  life  ebbs  away, 

Where  Florida's  zephyrs  are  sighing; 
The   Brother  who  went  with  me  oft  to  my  play, 
When  far  from  our  door  my  wee  feet  could  not  stray; 
Who  gave  me  support  in  each  boyish  affray, 
Lies  weak  and  emaciated,  wrinkled  and  gray, 
Where  orange  trees  bloom  and  all  nature  is  gay,     . 

While  peacefully,  patiently  dying. 

44 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

He  dies  as  he  lived  with  his  spirit  at  peace; 

And  peace  will  depart  from  him  never; 
From  pain  and  from  toil  he  will  soon  find  release ; 
No  more  shall  vexation  and  burdens  increase ; 
His  heart-throbs  and  sorrows  will  soon  find  surcease; 

Surcease,  yes,  forever  and  ever. 

We  roamed  the  same  wood  and  inhaled  its  perfume; 

We  plucked  the  same  flowers  in  the  wild  wood ; 
We  saw  the  same  jaybird  despoiled  of  its  plume; 
We  chased  the  same  flying  squirrel  on  to  its  doom ; 
We  saw  the  same  ghost  as  it  stalked  through  the  gloom ; 
WTe  watched  the  same  winding  blades,  hackle  and  loom, 
As  Mother  worked  on  in  the  old  lumber  room, 
When  heart  was  aglow  and  the  cheek  was  abloom, 

Amid  the  sweet  days  of  our  childhood. 

We  played  by  the  side  of  the  same  little  rill 
That  ran  through  the  yard   down  the  hollow; 

We  knew  where  the  winter  green  grew  on  the  hill ; 

Where  wood-peckers  bored  in  the  tree  with  the  bill; 

We  knew  the  best  place  for  a  wee  flutter-mill, 

Though  often  to  make  one  would  baffle  our  skill, 
And  sad  disappointment  would  follow. 

When  spent  was  my  strength  or  unsteady  my  arm, 

He  hastened  at  once  to  my  calling; 
When  aught  intervened  to  disturb  Or  alarm, 
At  school,  or  at  home,  or  at  play  on  the  farm ; 
When  moral  delinquency  threatened  to  harm ; 
Or  boyish  beguilements  were  ready  to  charm, 

His  steadiness  kept  me  from  falling. 

When  childhood  was  gone  he  still  stood  by  my  side, 

A  shield  and  support  in  temptation ; 
When  waywardness  welled  as  an  incoming  tide, 
And  youthful  integrity  sorely  was  tried, 
On  his  steady  counsel  I  always  relied, 
And  found  him  a  safe  and  reliable  guide; 

His  life  was  a  true  inspiration. 

45 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  when  I  endeavored  to  open  the  door 

That  leads  to  the  temple  of  learning, 
He  guided  my  feet  to  the  measureless  lore 
That  men  have  collected  and  laid  up  in  store ; 
And  taught  me  to  trust  and  rely  on  him  more, 
And  value  his  help  more  than  ever  before, 
As  patiently,  earnestly  onward  he  bore, 

With  never  a  shadow  of  turning. 

And  later  when  childhood  and  youth  were  both  gone, 

And  pathways  untried  lay  before  us, 
In  trust  and  affection  we  still  journeyed  on; 
While  struggling  up  higher  to  life's  brighter  dawn 
Of  Christian-like  stamina,  fibre,  and  brawn, 
He  stood  where  the  line  of  uprightness  was  drawn, 

And  knew  God's  protection  was  o'er  us. 

When  manhood  arrived  with  new  visions  of  joy, 

Arrived  in  its  strength  and  its  beauty, 
It  showed  in  our  Brother  no  touch  of  alloy, 
But  brought  the  same  virtues  he  showed  when  a  boy, 
The  same  strict  adherence  to  duty. 

His  life  was  a  guide  and  a  stay  to  my  feet, 

A  constant,  a  real  benediction; 

With  modest  good  works  his  whole  life  was  replete ; 
His  walk  ever  upright,  his  conduct  discreet ; 
He  won  every  heart  'twas  his  fortune  to  meet ; 
For  man  and  for  beast  his  warm  heart  kindly  beat, 

In  joy  or  in  grief  and  affliction. 

Long  years  have  gone  by  since  I  looked  in  his  face, 
That  brought  him  both  gladness  and  sorrow ; 

But  doubtless  his  growth  has  been  upward  in  grace ; 

To  still  higher  virtues  the  lower  gave  place ; 

Not  one  upward  step  could  he  ever  retrace ; 
Each  day  not  so  good  as  the  morrow. 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Magnificent  man,  his  whole  life  was  sublime, 

And  worthy  the  world's  imitation ; 
As  good  at  his  worst  as  most  men  at  their  prime, 
He  traversed  the  heights  that  not  many  may  climb, 
And  builded  a  Mansion  to  stand  for  all  time, 

With  Christ  as  the  only  foundation. 

He  stood  for  the  right  when  his  standing  was  play, 

When  standing  for  right  was  the  fashion; 
He  stood  for  the  right  in  the  thick  of  the  fray, 
When  currents  were  running  the  opposite  way, 
When  men  had  to  battle  to  carry  the  day, 
When  men  were  disturbed  and  unreason  held  sway, 
Amid  the  wild  whirlwinds  of  passion. 

He  dies  as  the  grain  at  the  harvest  time  dies, 

When  ripe  and  full  ready  for  reaping ; 
His  work  is  well  done ;  he  is  winning  the  prize ; 
He  now  is  cut  down,  but  he  soon  will  arise 
To  garner  the  treasure  laid  up  in  the  skies, 
Where  loved  ones  and  lost  ones  shall  gladden  his  eyes, 

And  where  there's  no  sorrow  or  weeping. 

Our  Brother  is  going,  he's  crossing  the  bar. 

Far  out  o'er  the  sea  he  is  sailing, 
The  soft  winds  are  wafting  his  vessel  afar ; 
The  white  sails  grow  less  like  a  vanishing  star; 
No  tempest  will  gather  the  voyage  to  mar ; 
No  lightning  will  shiver  the  mast  or  the  spar ; 
Serenely  he  sails  without  tremor  or  jar, 
To  regions  where  loved  and  departed  ones  are, 

And  youth  ever  blooms  without  failing. 

And  we  are  bereft,  we  are  robbed  of  our  own, 

To  journey  alone  in  our  sorrow 

Through   paths   where   the   brambles   and   thistles   have 
grown, 

47 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

From   which   the  bright    sunshine    and   songbirds   have 

flown, 

Where  rudely  the  winds  of  chill  autumn  have  blown, 
And  may  blow  more  rudely  to-morrow. 


POWDER  AND  BALL. 

The  ships  sailed  on  in  a  crescent  line, 
And  proudly  they  threw  the  spray 
Where  slowly  the  gulls  flew  over  the  brine, 
Some  seven-score  ships,  they  say; 
But  our  blazing  alarms 
Had  aroused  to  arms, 
And  our  fighters  were  on  the  way. 

Our  old  seadogs !    We  could  hear  them  growl 

Ere  the  Spaniard  came  in  sight; 
And  whether  the  day  was  fair  or  foul, 
As  they  gathered  to  join  in  fight 
Where  the  war  ships  rode 
They  plainly  showed 
The  battle  would  not  be  light. 

Though  Spain  was  ahead  in  guns  and  ships, 

Ahead  in  the  number  of  men, 
We  knew  when  the  Anglo-Saxon  grips 
He  wins  if  it's  one  to  ten; 
So  waiting  the  day 
Like  a  beast  of  prey 
We  watched  through  the  night  again. 

The  morning  dawned  and  the  day  was  fair ; 

The  wind  blew  over  the  sea ; 
The  Spanish  ships  of  the  line  were  there, 
And  close  to  the  ships  were  we ; 
We  fought  them  a  turn, 
Till  stem  and  stern 
They  were  bloody  as  ships  could  be. 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

We  shot  four  shots  to  their  one  that  day; 
They  luffed  and  they  said:  "Come  on!" 
We  gave  our  shots  and  we  sailed  away ; 
We  riddled  them,  then  were  gone; 
They  opened  their  eyes 
With  extreme  surprise 
At  both  our  skill  and  our  brawn. 

We  shot,  we  tacked,  and  we  ran  away; 

We  sailed  to  the  windward  sea; 
We  ran  two  knots  to  their  one  that  day; 
They  thought  we  had  turned  to  flee ; 
They  did  not  know 
That  down  below 
No  powder  and  shot  had  we. 

"My  God!"  said  the  captain,  ''can  we  win?" 

But  the  gale  swept  in  from  the  sea 
And  down  went  the  Spaniard's  mast  with  a  din 
And  over  his  deck  went  we ; 
And  down  in  the  hold 
Were  casks  of  gold 
And  tons  of  powder,  you  see. 

And  quickly  we  sent  the  powder  around 

To  men  who  were  in  despair, 
And  then  all  at  once  they  began  to  pound 
The  galleons  sailing  there ; 

And  the  Dons  could  see 
We  never  would  flee 
As  our  wild  cheers  rent  the  air. 

And  just  off  Portland  motionless  lay 

Both  fleets  as  the  sun  rose  high; 
But  we  knew  the  sea  breeze  soon  would  play 
A  tune  from  the  western  sky ; 
But  down  in  the  hold 
The  story  was  told — 
No  powder  and  shot  had  they, 

49 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

And  back  from  the  admiral  came  the  word, 

No  powder  to  fight  that  day, 
While  there  was  the  Spaniard  spry  as  a  bird; 
And  we  in  idleness  lay, 

While  the  Queen  had  all 
The  powder  and  ball 
Locked  up  in  the  Tower,  they  say. 

A  courier  went  from  the  admiral's  ship 

And  plead  with  the  Queen,  did  he; 
But  she  held  the  keys  so  tight  in  her  grip 
That  vainly  he  pressed  his  plea ; 
Ammunition  had  she 
Under  lock  and  key, 
But  none  for  the  men  at  sea. 

"Go  back  to  the  admiral,  sailor,"  said  she, 

In  the  presence  of  courtiers  and  all— 
"Go  back  to  the  admiral,  sailor,  and  see 
What  proportion  of  powder  and  ball!" 
And  the  courier  sped 
Where  the  decks  were  red, 
And  our  banner  seemed  ready  to  fall. 

And  the  admiral  swore  at  the  sailor  and  said: 

"Great  God !    What  a  Queen  is  she ! 
Our  ships  are  bloody,  and  our  men  are  dead, 
And  powder  under  lock  and  key ! 
She  has  money  and  food 
For  her  sycophant  brood, 
But  no  powder  for  the  men  at  sea!" 

The  sailor  rode  back  and  we  had  our  way, 

For  the  Tudor  was  more  serene; 
We  got  the  powder,  and  we  won  the  day ; 
We  swept  out  the  Channel  clean ; 
Though  hardly  half  fed 
Our  Englishmen  bled 
And  triumphed  in  spite  of  the  Queen. 

5° 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 


THE  SUNDAY  WORKER. 

You  say  that  Sunday's  for  man,  Jim, 
And  you're  going  to  work  if  you  choose ; 

That  you'll  hustle  as  long  as  you  can,  Jim, 
That  you  have  little  time  to  lose. 

You  say  that  your  time  is  your  own,  Jim, 

And  you'll  work  or  you'll  play  as  you  please ; 

That  you  never  bow  down  at  the  throne,  Jim, 
Nor  waste  any  time  on  your  knees. 

That  God  doesn't  punish  a  man,  Jim, 

For  having  a  way  of  his  own ; 
But  follows  a  far  better  plan,  Jim, 

By  leaving  a  man  all  alone. 

You  say  you  will  not  take  His  word,  Jim, 
When  He  tells  us  that  we  must  obey; 

That  such  a  command  is  absurd,  Jim ; 
And  you  simply  will  have  your  own  way. 

Some  others  have  felt  the  same  way,  Jim, 
And  risked  everything  on  the  deal; 

They  simply  refused  to  obey,  Jim, 
And  cared  not  for  woe  or  for  weal. 

When  Noah's  good  neighbors  of  old,  Jim, 

Perversely  refused  to  obey, 
God  gave  them  their  way,  we  are  told,  Jim, 

And  floods  quickly  swept  them  away. 

Old  Pharaoh  defiantly  said,  Jim, 
That  Israel  should  never  be  free ; 

But  wept  when  his  first  born  was  dead,  Jim, 
His  chariots  whelmed  in  the  sea. 

51 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  Hiel  refused  to  obey,  Jim, 
When  Jericho's  walls  were  rebuilt; 

But  when  his  two  sons  passed  away,  Jim, 
He  saw  the  result  of-  his  guilt. 

King  Saul  just  refused  to  obey,  Jim, 
Commands  that  he  knew  were  divine; 

And  God  took  his  kingdom  away,  Jim, 
For  filching  some  sheep  and  fat  kine. 

The  tale  is  too  long  to  rehearse,  Jim, 
Where  penalties  fell  upon  men 

Too  heedless,  too  blind  and  perverse,  Jim, 
Though  cautioned  again  and  again. 

And  men  have  too  often  believed,  Jim, 

That  God  had  withdrawn  from  the  world ; 

And  frequently  men  are  deceived,  Jim, 
And  think  that  His  banner  is  furled. 

The  Jews  said  that  He  had  withdrawn,  Jim, 
And  set  up  false  gods  of  their  own; 

And  bowed  down  at  darkness  and  dawn,  Jim, 
To  idols  of  wood  and  of  stone. 

But  when  by  fair  Babylon's  streams,  Jim, 
Their  harps  on  the  willows  were  hung, 

They  found  their  opinions  were  dreams,  Jim, 
And  wept  while  their  songs  were  unsung. 


SANTA  ANA  COMMANDERY,  K.  T. 

You  may  think  of  me  when  you  please,  men, 

Down  there  by  the  sunlit  sea; 
But  down  where  we  took  our  degrees,  men, 

Is  a  bonnie  old  place  for  me. 

52 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

You  may  care  not  whether  I  float,  men, 

When  my  bark  sails  out  to  sea ; 
But  down  where  we  rode  the  goat,  men, 

How  merry  we  used  to  be ! 

Some  time  when  your  spirits  droop,  men, 

Or  when  every  heart  is  free, 
When  you  whoop  it  up  with  a  whoop,  men, 

Oh,  sing  a  merry  song  for  me. 

We  shall  soon  be  sailing  away,  men, 

Far  over  a  chartless  sea, 
Do  you  know  where  you're  going,  oh,  say,  men, 

Do  you  know  where  your  port  will  be  ? 

Enroll  on  the  Christian's  ship,  men ! 

No  other  can  sail  the  sea 
We  must  cross  on  the  final  trip,  men, 

To  where  the  great  Conclave's  to  be. 

Over  yonder  beneath  the  trees,  men, 
In  a  lodge  where  the  heart  is  free, 

Where  we  take  our  higher  degrees,  men, 
Don't  you  fail  to  meet  with  me. 


THE  DREAMER. 

I  stood  by  the  Judsean  mountains 
Where  terebinths  spread  to  the  sky, 

Where  poppy-worts  grew  by  the  fountains, 
And  saw  the  glad  dreamer  go  by. 

Where  Dothan's  fair  meadows  were  growing, 
And  brother  hearts  callous  as  steel, 

Where  well-favored  cattle  were  lowing, 
I  heard  a  heartrending  appeal. 

53 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Where  Ishmaelite  rovers  were  lying 

Beneath  the  cold  Syrian  sky, 
Where  Israel's  lone  captive  was  sighing 

Ascended  a  piteous  cry. 

From  Potiphar's  house  with  its  glory 
There  went  up  a  cry  of  despair, 

Till  faith  gently  whispered  the  story 
That  Israel's  Jehovah  was  there. 

Then  humbly,  in  byways  of  duty, 
Consoling  each  grief  and  each  sigh, 

Then  clothed  with  all  grandeur  and  beauty, 
Again  the  glad  dreamer  went  by. 


THE  COLUMNS. 

(Missouri  University  Building,  burned  several  years 
ago.) 
Yes,  there  are  the  columns,  still  standing  upright 

With  ivy  vines  clambering  o'er  them ; 
They  stand  there  as  grim  through  the  day  and  the  night 

As  when  we  first  stood  there  before  them. 

It's  thirty-three  years  now  since  you  and  I  trod 

The  pathway  that  guided  us  to  them; 
And  many  dear  fellows  now  under  the  sod 

Were  dear  to  us  there  where  we  knew  them. 

What  measure  of  bitterness,  sorrow,  and  tears, 

What  downfalls  and  what  dissipation 
Have  come  to  that  crowd  in  those  thirty-three  years! 

What  honors  and  what  elevation ! 

Oh,  would  that  men  stood,  that  we  ever  could  stand 

As  firm  as  those  columns  of  granite, 
As  true  to  the  purpose  for  which  we  were  planned 

And  sent  to  possess  this  old  planet. 

54 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Then,  when  this  old  world  shall  be  crumbled  to  dust 

And  sent  to  the  limbo  of  chaos, 
We  grandly  would  stand  with  the  true  and  the  just 

Where  sin  never  more  could  betray  us. 

But  men  are  unlike  the  firm  columns  of  stone, 

Unmoved  in  the  sweep  of  the  ages ; 
They're  more  like  the  clay  or  the  chaff  that  is  blown, 

Swept  off  by  each  tempest  that  rages. 

You  ask  me  where  now  are  Court  Yantis  and  Jay, 
Choate,  Wheeler,  Babb,  Mike,  and  the  others, 

Louis  Hoffman,  Rash  Feagans,  Buck  Berry,  and  Gray, 
And  Sherman,  all  dear  as  our  brothers  ? 

Some  linger  here  yet,  but  their  footsteps  are   slow, 

While  quietly  seeking  for  knowledge ; 
And  some  are  promoted,  as  you  and  I  know, 

And  passed  to  a  more  advanced  college. 

They  sat  with  the   Sophs   and  the  Freshmen  no  more, 
Their  ties  with  the  Juniors  were  broken ; 

They  distanced  the  Seniors ;  they  passed  on  before ; 
Their  final  farewells  were  all  spoken. 

They  sang  a  new  song  ere  they  hasted  away; 

They  said  their  good-bys  at  the  station ; 
The  moment  had  come,  and  they  could  not  delay, 

To  meet  a  new  matriculation. 

All  pale  were  their  faces  and   dim  were  their  eyes, 
And   folded  their  hands  when   they  started ; 

They  silently  went  to  that  school  in  the  skies, 
And  left  their  friends  here  broken-hearted. 

They'll  never  come  back  from  that  school  far  away, 
Though  ceaseless  and  sore  is  our  yearning; 

Matriculates  enter,  but  graduates  stay, 
Nor  sigh  for  the  day  of  returning. 

55 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

But  were  they  all  ready  to  enter  that  school? 

Were  some  without  due  preparation? 
Dear  fellows,  they  had  to  submit  to  the  rule, 

And  went  to  the  examination. 

Dear  fellows !    We  do  not  know  how  they  stood  there, 
Where  closely  their  work  was  inspected, 

How  many  of  them  were  shut  out  in  despair, 
Marked  down  and  shut  out  as  rejected. 

Matriculates  there  had  to  do  their  own  work; 

There  was  no  depending  on  cronies ; 
No  chances  were  given  to  cheat  or  to  shirk 

Or  dig  out  their  lessons  with  "ponies." 

Their  entrance  depended  on  labor  well  done, 
Through  years  of  hard  toil  and  devotion, 

On  self-sacrifice  since  their  work  had  begun 
Without  any  thought  of  promotion. 

And  soon  we  shall  stand  where  those  dear  fellows  stood, 

And  either  be  passed  or  rejected, 
With  no  opportunity  then  to  make  good 

The  chances  we  may  have  neglected. 


THE  OLD  DINNER  HORN. 

Oh,  do  you  recall  it,  the  little  tin  horn? 

Ah,  well,  very  well  I  remember ; 
When  far,  far  afield  in  the  meadow  or  corn, 
With  spirit  aglee  or  with  spirit  forlorn, 
Our  labor  grew  near  the  fag-end  of  the  morn, 
Of  all  earthly  sounds  to  persuade  or  to  warn, 
Its  tone  was  the  sweetest  heard  since  I  was  born, 

In  April,  in  June,  or  November. 

56 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

Oh,  glad  was  the  heart  and  so  swift  were  the  feet, 

And  blithely  our  spirits  were  flowing ; 
The  forest  was  gay  and  the  flowers  were  sweet 
Whenever  its  welcome  tones  called  us  to  eat, 

When  that  dear  old  horn  we  heard  blowing. 

Sometimes  in  my  musings  I  picture  the  day 
When  first  that  old  horn  was  set  blowing ; 

The  bonnie  wee  girls  that  came  in  from  their  play 

And  wanted  to  tote  the  new  tooter  away, 

Their  dress  not  so  modern  and  eke  not  so  gay ; 

The  same  girls  whose  heads  are  now  sprinkled  with  gray, 
Who  soon  to  their  rest  will  be  going. 

Or  was  it  before  any  bairnies  had  come 
That  olden  time  home  to  make  brighter? 

Ere  Mother's  old  spinning  wheel  started  to  hum ; 

Ere  trouble  and  toil  were  the  chief  of  life's  sum ; 

Ere  girlhood  gave  place  to  life's  weary  humdrum ; 
Those  years  when  her  burdens  were  lighter  ? 

It  may  be  our  grandmother  brought  it  along 
One  day  when  she  came  with  her  sewing; 
While  in  from  the  hayfield  were  wafted  a  song, 
The  ring  of  the  crum-crick  in  merry  ping-pong, 
The  swish  of  the  scythe  in  arms  steady  and  strong, 
From  where  the  haymakers  were  mowing. 

And  whence  came  the  money  that  settled  the  bill  ? 

Or  was  the  bill  paid  in  hard  money? 
It  might  be  that  Father  rode  over  the  hill 
Conveying  an  old-fashioned  grist  to  the  mill 
And  eke  to  the  store  with  a  hearty  good  will 

Some  eggs  or  a  few  pounds  of  honey. 

And  when  at  the  eve  he  came  home  from  the  mill 

And  brought  home  the  grist  from  the  milling, 
He  brought  the  old  horn  to  his  bride  on  the  hill 
Awaiting  him  there,  with  her  heart  all  athrill, 
Dressed  plainly  in  linsey  with  never  a  frill, 
But  teady  for  cooing  and  billing. 

57 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  then  for  amusement  they  tested  it  there, 

While  standing  outside  in  the  gloaming, 
With  hair-raising  screeches  and  heathenish  blare, 
Alarming  the  neighbors  and  splitting  the  air, 
And  giving  the  cattle  and  horses  a  scare 
That  sent  them  skyhooting  and  roaming. 

Or  maybe  he  wandered  along  by  the  shore, 

Where  old  wooden  vessels  were  lying, 
In  Baltimore,  where  he  had  gone  in  the  yore 
To  market  his  cattle  and  sheep  by  the  score. 
And  bought  the  old  horn  at  an  olden  time  store ; 
And  over  the  rivers  and  mountains  he  bore 
The  gift  till  he  met  his  young  bride  at  the  door, 
Where,  toiling  with  old-fashioned  gusset  and  gore, 
She  sweetly  sat  waiting  and  sighing. 

Gone,  gone  is  our  grandmother,  gone  to  her  rest, 
Who  chided  us  times,  without  number; 

But  chiding  or  blessing  she  did  for  the  best; 

She  did  her  whole  duty  at  Heaven's  behest; 

She  slumbers  at  rest  in  the  Isles  of  the  Blest, 
And  peaceful  and  sweet  is  her  slumber. 

And  gone  are  the  couple  that  stood  by  the  gate 
And  blew  the  old  horn  in  the  gloaming ; 

They  toiled  for  the  bairnies  both  early  and  late, 

When  young  in  their  prime  and  when  old  and  sedate; 

They  went  at  the  call,  they  submitted  to  fate; 

And  long  are  the  years  to  the  bairnies  who  wait, 
And  weary  their  feet  in  their  roaming. 

And  weary  the  heart  and  so  dreary  the  day, 

And  lonely  the  road  we  are  going; 
And  slowly  the  feet  tread  the  long,  dusty  way; 
The  flowers  are  dead  and  the  forest  is  gray ; 
The  music  is  sad,  touch  the  chords  as  they  may; 
And  hushed  are  the  voices  forever  and  aye 

We  heard  when  the  old  horn  was  blowing. 

58 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  gone  is  the  horn  with  our  halcyon  days ; 

Its  dust  with  our  lost  ones  is  sleeping; 
It  vanished  away  in  the  mist  and  the  haze ; 
Its  echoes  are  dead,  buried  deep  in  the  maze 
Of  childhood's  sweet  land,  where  we  wistfully  gaze, 
As  fade  its  fair  heights  in  the  sun's  dying  rays, 

While  nought  comes  to  us  but  our  weeping. 


JOHN  OF  TYRONE. 

Old  John  of  Tyrone,  dear  old  John  of  Tyrone, 
C!ome  out  of  the  silence,  come  unto  your  own, 

And  tell  us  the  tales  in  your  keeping ; 
The  stories  they  told  you  when  you  were  a  chap 
And  all  cuddled  down  in  your  fair  mother's  lap, 

Told  often  in  sighing  and  weeping. 

Oh,  where  were  your  grandfathers,  John  of  Tyrone, 
When  William  of  Orange  came  unto  his  own 

Amid  much  confusion  and  bustle? 
Stood  they  with  our  William  when  over  he  came 
To  win  him  a  crown  and  establish  his  name, 

And  give  bonnie  Jamie  the  hustle? 

When  England's  false  friends  were  debasing  the  coin, 
When  England's  true  monarch  was  winning  the  Boyne, 

Where  were  they  ?    Out  houghing  the  cattle  ? 
Were  they  with  our  William  when  Boyne  was  at  flood 
And  William  for  England  shed  Protestant  blood  ? 

Or  with  Bonnie  Jamie  in  battle? 

And  when  the  Stuart  star  in  adversity  set 
When  exile  and  penury  were  to  be  met, 

Was  that  the  sad  day  of  their  weeping? 
Or  rode  they  in  triumph  as  William  passed  by 
With  England's  proud  banner  unfurled  to  the  sky. 

Where  William's  grave  cohorts  were  sweeping; 

59 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  when  those  brave  soldiers  for  country  and  God, 
Shut  up  within  walls  of  old  Erin's  green  sod, 

Fought  nobly  in  old  Londonderry, 
Did  they  stand  for  William,  your  worthy  old  sires, 
Did  they  warn  their  comrades  with  bright  beacon  fires 

That  blazed  from  old  Ulster  to  Kerry  ? 

Were  they  with  the  heroes  that  won  in  the  fight, 
Or  were  they  cut  down  ere  the  end  was  in  sight 

By  slaughter,  disease,  or  starvation? 
Perhaps  they  returned  to  their  families  to  tell 
The  tale  of  the  siege  and  their  comrades  that  fell, 

A  story  of  war's  desolation. 

When  gallant  Prince  Rupert  rode  into  the  fray, 
When  Cavalier  troopers  were  gaining  the  day, 

Was  that  your  old  ancestors'  inning? 
Rode  they  with  the  Prince  as  he  fought  for  the  crown? 
Rode  they  with  the  Prince  when  his  foemen  went  down  ? 

And  triumphed  they  when  he  was  winning? 

And  where  were  your  ancestors,  speak  out  and  say, 
When  Cromwell's  grim  troopers  dismounted  to  pray, 

And  went  from  their  knees  to  their  fighting? 
Did  they  for  the  king  and  the  monarchy  fight? 
Or  did  they  with  Oliver  cleave  with  their  might, 

The  foes  of  their  Commonwealth  smiting? 

And  when  the  Armada  was  swept  on  your  shores, 
And  broken  and  pillaged  and  robbed  of  its  stores, 

As  wildly  the  tempests  were  brewing, 
Did  they  smite  the  jewel-decked  grandees  of  _Spain, 
And  harry  and  torture  and  murder  for  gain? 

Was  that  the  red  work  of  their  doing? 

Or  were  they  at  home  by  their  fanes  and  their  fires, 
Instructing  their  families,  your  good  Celtic  sires, 

In  doctrines  of  faith  and  election, 
While  baser  men  down  by  the  tempest-wracked  main 
\Yere  luring  and  looting  the  galleys  of  Spain 

That  fled  to  the  Celt  for  protection? 

60 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

And  tell  us,  old  man,  when  the  heretic  creed 
Swept  in  by  the  breeze  that  blew  over  the  Tweed 

And  paralyzed  Erin  with  terror, 
Came  they  with  the  fagot,  the  sword,  and  the  spear 
To  slice  away  heretic  ringer  or  ear 

And  save  Papal  Erin  from  error? 

Or  were  they  consumed  by  a  Calvinist  zeal 
And  were  they  impelled  to  use  Protestant  steel 

To  forward  the  work  of  the  Spirit? 
Perhaps  they  believed  that  all  things  were  foreknown; 
The  Word  was  ordained  for  the  chosen  alone, 

And  no  non-elect  need  to  hear  it. 

Come  out  of  the  silence,  old  John  of  Tyrone, 
Come  out  where  your  children  are  waiting  alone 

To  hear  you  tell  over  your  story ; 
The  story  you  heard  in  the  vanishing  years 
Of  torture  and  death,  and  of  sorrow  and  tears, 

Of  deeds  that  were  tragic  and  gory. 


THE  TEST. 

(From  Private  Memoirs.) 
A  lady,  fair,  youthful,  and  witty, 

Once  dined  in  the  home  of  a  peer 
Amid  the  elite  of  the  city, 

Where  stately  St.  Peter's  stood  near. 

Her  lover,  rich,  handsome,  and  loyal, 

Devotedly  sat  by  her  side ; 
Her  lover,  who  gallant  and  royal, 

Was  waiting  to  make  her  his  bride. 

The  table  talk  drifted  to  scaling 
St.  Peter's  dome  clear  to  the  top ; 

Her  lover  asserted,  while  paling, 
That  if  he  should  try  it  he'd  drop. 

61 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

"Not  for  the  whole  world !"  he  said  plainly ; 

"'Not  if  I  should  ask  it?"  she  cried; 
"I  know  you  would  not!"  he  said  vainly; 

"Excuse  me,  I  do !"  she  replied. 

He  laughingly  tried  to  dissuade  her ; 

She  madly  insisted  and  won; 
For,  finding  he  could  not  evade  her, 

He  said  the  rash  thing  should  be  done. 

He  went ;  and  he  won ;  and,  returning, 
She  came  and  extended  her  hand; 

He  took  it ;  he  kissed  it ;  discerning 
That  now  was  his  time  to  command. 

And  there  in  the  Eternal  City, 

With  lords  and  fair  ladies  around, 

He  spoke  in  all  kindness  and  pity, 
But  with  no  equivocal  sound. 

"When  next  you  have  power,  pray  use  it; 

Don't  recklessly  throw  it  away; 
Don't  foolishly,  madly  abuse  it, 

As  you  have  abused  it  to-day !" 

Then,  saying  "Good-by!"  he  departed, 
As  from  her  forever  he  turned, 

And  left  the  girl  there  broken-hearted 
To  ponder  the  lesson  she'd  learned. 

When  did  I  discover  that  I  was  a  poet  ? 
Alas !  and  alack !  sir,  I  do  not  yet  know  it. 

The  standard  is  high,  sir,  that  measures  the  poet ; 
And  most  who  write  verses  are  far,  far  below  it ! 

Too  few  among  men  wield  the  magic  to  grow  it, 
The  flower  that  blooms  by  the  path  of  the  poet ! 

62 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

He  who  gives  his  life  where  he  never  could  owe  it, 
Who  lavishes  love  and  delights  to  bestow  it, 

Whose  soul  fills  the  earth  and  can  even  o'erflow  it, 
That  man  has  the  soul  of  the  genuine  poet ! 


GONE! 

(Ollie,  Cora,  Lois,  Lillie,  and  Gertrude.) 
We  saw  four  lambs  and  a  kid  at  play 

Where  idly  the  winds  were  straying ; 
The  heart  was  glad  through  the  livelong  day, 

While  gayly  the  lambs  were  playing. 

The  hills  are  brown  and  the  grass  is  dead ; 

The  night  hawk  loudly  is  crying; 
The  lambs  are  gone,  and  the  kid  has  fled, 

And  sadly  the  winds  are  sighing! 


A  HERO ! 

It  was  down  in  Oklahoma 
They  sped  along  in  the  snow, 

A  youth  and  his  lover,  Noma, 
Some  dozens  of  years  ago. 

'Twas  a  lonely,  desolate  prairie 
Where  the  Chickasaw  lovers  sped 

To  a  home  where  the  guests  were  merry 
And  the  lovers  were  to  be  wed. 

As  the  ponies  were  swiftly  flying 
And  the  lovers  a  moment  mute, 

They  suddenly  heard  the  crying 
Of  a  pack  of  wolves  in  pursuit. 

63 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

It  was  miles  to  the  nearest  dwelling, 
And  the  Chickasaw  had  no  gun; 

And,  the  hungry  chorus  swelling, 
He  whipped  his  team  to  a  run. 

As  the  ponies  their  muscles  were  straining, 
And  the  sleigh  flung  the  snow  in  spray, 

It  was  certain  the  wolves  were  gaining, 
And  the  lovers  were  losing  the  day. 

It  was  death  for  them  both  if  they  waited, 
For  the  ravenous  pack  was  near; 

And  as  for  a  trice  they  debated 

Sharp  snaps  they  could  plainly  hear. 

A  kiss,  and  the  Chickasaw,  leaping, 

Sprang  into  a  living  grave ; 
One  look  and  the  maiden  was  weeping 

Hot  tears  for  the  Chickasaw  brave. 

A  moment  of  snarling  and  snapping, 

A  war  whoop  there  on  the  hill, 
And  loosely  the  lines  were  flapping, 

And  the  maiden's  hot  pulse  grew  still. 

On  the  floor  of  the  sleigh  they  found  her, 
When  the  ponies  arrived  at  the  gate ; 

And  the  wedding  guests  gathered  around  her 
To  learn  of  her  lover's  fate. 

Reviving,  she  told  the  story 

Of  her  lover  so  true  and  brave, 
Who  covered  his  name  with  glory, 

And  went  to  a  hero's  grave. 

And  down  there  in  Oklahoma, 

Along  the  old  Indian  trail, 
They  tell  the  story  of  Noma 

And  her  piteous  midnight  wail. 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 


GREETING. 

To  those  who  besought  me 

When  evil  distraught  me 
To  turn  from  the  darkness 
And  seek  for  the  light; 

Who  taught  me  my  duty; 

Who  showed  me  the  beauty 
That  shines  in  the  life  when 
The  heart  is  made  right. 

To  those  who  have  striven 
And  faithfully  given 

Their  lives  for  the  sheep  that 

Are  out  of  the  fold ; 
WTho  triumph  in  winning 
The  souls  that  are  sinning 

To  that  which  is  purer 

And  better  than  gold. 

To  those  who  are  keeping, 

In  joy  or  in  weeping, 
The  path  that  the  prophets 
And  martyrs  once  trod ; 

Who  joy  beyond  measure 

In  garnering  treasure 
To  bring'at  the  end  to 
The  Storehouse  of  God. 


FIFTY  YEARS. 

Tis  fifty  years !    O,  far-off  day ! 

Since  Father,  with  his  troop, 
From  home  and  kindred  turned  away, 

A  melancholy  group, 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

And  left  his  native  pine-clad  hills, 
The  shady  dells  and  rippling  rills 

His  losses  to  recoup 
In  lands  beyond  the  setting  sun, 
Where  fortune's  quest  must  be  begun. 

War's  devastating,  withering  hand 

Pressed  sorely  on  our  brood ; 
But  bravely  Father  took  his  stand 

And  daily  toiled  for  food ; 
Most  all  his  land,  his  herds,  and  gold 
He'd  lost  through  men  as  false  as  bold ; 

And  then,  in  cheerful  mood, 
With  honest  heart  and  weary  feet, 
Went  on  his  way  in  cold  and  heat. 

And  generous  fortune  kindly  shed, 

In  later,  kindlier  years, 
Her  ample  favors  on  his  head 

And  paid  her  just  arrears 
In  honors,  quiet  and  content, 
With  other  blessings  sweetly  blent; 

And  free  from  doubts  and  fears 
He  ever  in  the  footsteps  trod 
Of  Christ  the  blessed  Son  of  God. 

And  since  that  melancholy  day 
Of  all  that  household  troop 

But  five  are  gone ;  eight  staidly  stray, 
A  broken,  severed  group ; 

And  all  have  heard  the  Saviour's  call ; 

And  evermore  his  blessings  fall 
On  silvered  heads  that  stoop ; 

In  joy  and  mirth,  in  grief  and  tears 

Our  God  has  kept  us  fifty  years. 


66 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 


FAREWELL ! 

We  must  bid  you  farewell, 

O,  ye  forest  and  dell, 
Where  in  faraway  childhood  we  played! 

We  must  bid  you  farewell, 

All  ye  pathways  that  tell 
Where  our  way-weary  footsteps  have  strayed! 

And  the  plains  of  the  West, 

Where  we  ever  could  rest 
On  their  beautiful  carpet  of  green; 

And  the  rivers  that  sweep 

Far  away  to  the  deep ; 
We  must  leave  that  fair  region  serene ! 

And  this  bright  land  of  bloom, 

Orange  groves,  and  perfume, 
Where  the  rivers  of  paradise  flow ; 

And  a  fair  country  lies 

Under  radiant  skies, 
And  the  opaline  tints  ever  glow ! 

Fare  ye  well !  Hill  and  dale, 

Where  the  mists  throw  a  veil, 
Like  enchantment  from  mountain  to  sea! 

Summer  land  of  the  West, 

Where  the  heart  finds  its  rest, 
And  delight  and  content  never  flee ! 

And  ye  friends  fair  and  true 

That  in  lost  years  we  knew, 
That  were  near,  O,  so  near  to  the  heart ; 

Ye  whose  hands  we  oft  pressed 

In  the  years  we  loved  best, 
Soon  the  moment  will  come  to  depart! 


CALIFORNIA    SONGS 

But  we  go,  O,  we  go 

Where  the  flowers  ever  blow, 
And  the  young  heart  can  never  grow  old! 

Where  no  tear  dims  the  eye 

As  the  ages  sweep  by, 
And  the  beauty  can  never  be  told ! 


A  PRAYER. 

Father !    In  meekness  and  patience  we  bow, 
Knowing  affliction  is  best  for  us  now. 
Infinite  Father  !  Compassionate  Friend ! 
O,  give  us  strength  to  endure  to  the  end ! 


OH!    WOULD! 

O,  would  that  these  perishing  bodies  of  ours 

Could  only  keep  pace  with  the  spirit! 
For  then  we  would  journey  'mid  earth's  fairest  bowers 
And  breathe  the  perfume  of  the  rarest  of  flowers; 
For  earth's  filled  with  music  from  heaven's  high  towers, 

If  but  we  had  ears  that  could  hear  it ! 


A  VISION. 

As  oft  I  sit  quietly  musing 

And  dreaming  of  years  that  are  dead, 
When  visions  come  up  without  choosing, 
That  passed  with  the  years  as  they  sped, 
One  sweet  vision  stays 
Of  long  ago  days, 
Ere  youth  and  its  rapture  were  fled. 

68 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

Tis  Sunday  and  Mother  is  reading 

Her  Bible  so  patiently  there, 
Her  faith  on  its  promises  feeding, 

There  in  her  old  split-bottomed  chair ; 
While  we  wish  to  fly 
Away  where  the  sky 
Sheds  beauty  on  meadows  so  fair. 

No  matter  how  worn  and  how  weary, 

How  cruel  or  bitter  the  strife; 
No  matter  how  dull  and  how  dreary, 
Or  lonely. and  cheerless  the  life; 
When  hope  lit  the  sky ; 
When  shadows  were  nigh; 
Or  sore  disappointments  were  rife; 

When  wildly  the  March  winds  were  sweeping 

And  driving  the  clouds  through  the  sky ; 
Or  gently  the  summer  clouds  weeping 
As  sweetly  the  days  drifted  by ; 
When  winter's  wild  blast 
Grew  cold  as  it  passed, 
The  vision  I  cherish  drew  nigh. 

This  sweetly  enchanting  old  vision 

That  comes  from  the  vanishing  years, 
Now  seems  beatific,  Elysian, 

Though  seen  through  a  vista  of  tears ; 
A  beacon  of  light 
It  guides  me  aright 
When  doubt  or  temptation  appears. 


THE  HEN. 

When  the  fire  passed  by 

And  the  raging  sky 
Shed  the  coals  and  the  embers  down, 

On  the  fire-swept  ground 

There  the  hen  was  found, 
Scorched  and  lifeless,  and  roasted  brown. 

69 


CALIFORNIA     SONGS 

When  they  turned  her  o'er 

On  the  forest  floor 
There  her  little  ones  chirped  for  food; 

In  the  fiery  breath 

She  had  met  her  death; 
She  had  perished  to  save  her  brood. 

Unbelieving  men! 

If  a  farmer's  hen 
Will  surrender  her  life  for  love; 

For  the  love  of  you 

What  will  Christ  not  do 
To  secure  you  with  him  above ! 


THE  END. 


70 


OUR    NEWEST    ISSUES 


By  Alexandre  Erixon. 
The  Vale  of  Shadows  .......................   1.50 


By  Mrs.  Josephine  M.  Clarke. 
The  King  Squirrel  of  Central  Park  (Juvenile) .     .60 


By  William  N.  Freeman. 
St.  Mammon  1.50 


By  Mrs.  I.  Lowenberg. 
The  Irresistible   Current 1.50 


By  M.  Y.  T.  H.  Myth. 

Tales  of  Enchantment i.oo 

A  Tale  Confided  by  the  Woods 75 


By  Ida  Blanche  Wall. 
Comedy  of  Petty  Conflicts 1.25 


By  Elizabeth  Helene  Freston. 

Poems  (portrait)  beautifully  bound i.oo 

Italians  Fornarina  (leather) 3.00 


Compiled  by  Darwin  W.  Esmond. 
Poetry  of  Childhood,  by  Paul  Warner  Esmond 
(Memorial  Edition)   1.50 


OUR    NEWEST    ISSUES 


By  Wilbert  C.  Blakeman. 
The  Black  Hand 1.50 


By  John  W.  Bennett. 
Roosevelt  and  the  Republic 1.50 


By  Hon.  Joseph  M.  Brown. 

(Governor  of  Georgia.) 
Astyanax — An  Epic  Romance 1.50 


By  John  Tracy  Mygatt. 
What  I  Do  Not  Know  of  Farming 75 


By  Esmee  Walton. 
Aurora  of  Poverty  Hill 1.50 


By  Josephine  Merwin  Cook. 
Bandana  Days 75 


By  Howard  James. 
The  Wraith  of  Knopf  and  Other  Stories i.oo 


By  George  Fuller  Golden. 
My  Lady  Vaudeville  and  Her  White  Rats. . . ,  2.00 


By  J.  A.  Salmon-Maclean. 

Leisure  Moments  i.oo 

A  Stricken  City 50 


OUR    NEWEST    ISSUES 


. 

By  James  A.  Ritchey,  Ph.D. 
Psychology  of  the  Will  .....................  $1.50 


By  Charles  Hallock,  M.  A. 
Peerless  Alaska  .  .  i.oo 


By  Dwight  Edwards  Marvin. 

Prof.  Slagg  of  London 1.50 

The  Christman   1.50 


By  Caroline  Mays  Brevard. 
Literature  of  the  South 1.50 


By  Susan  Archer  Weiss. 
Home  Life  of  Poe  (sd  ed.) 1.50 


By  Irving  Wilson  Voorhees,  M.D. 
Teachings  of  Thomas  Henry  Huxley  (26.  ed.) .   i.oo 


By  Mrs.  Annie  Riley  Hale. 
Rooseveltian  Fact  and  Fable. .  .   i.oo 


By  Hon.  D.  W.  Higgins. 
The  Mystic  Spring 1.50 


By  Edith  Nicholl  Ellison. 
The   Burnt-Offering    1.35 


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